Can I Come In?
by Blakrobe
Summary: Spike and Drusilla show an unhealthy interest in Hogwarts... Are they working for a more potent adversary, or do they have their own schemes?
1. Chapter 1

Can I Come In?  
  
1 Part One  
  
It was a nasty winter, and rain pelted against the windows. Dudley was away at boarding school (so was that Harry Potter boy, but the Dursley's could care less about him), which left Vernon and Petunia alone in the house. Both were thoroughly unpleasant people, but that didn't mean that they missed their only child any less. Dudley's room was the same as he had left it, a total tip, filled with toys that the spoilt brat had broken. Petunia had tried to clean it one day, but there seemed so much to do, and the absence of Dudley struck her hard, and she had sat crying for over an hour. She spent most of her days trying to be strong when it hurt so much inside, and she couldn't talk to Vernon about it, especially if he'd been drinking again (she always wore clothes with long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms).  
  
The television was on, quietly humming as the news droned out into the otherwise silent room. Vernon was reading a newspaper, ostensibly doing the Daily Mail's crossword (after he had spent half an hour telling Petunia how 'the faggots are trying to corrupt the children of England'). Petunia was half-heartedly knitting a jumper, although she still wasn't sure who to give it to. Not Harry, everything had gone wrong since he had arrived at number four Privet Drive. But she needed something to do, so she knitted.  
  
The news was reminding viewers that Sirius Black, free for over a year, had been sighted recently in a sleepy little village called Hogsmeade (that no viewer had ever heard of, for very good reasons, although if Vernon had listened, he would have been reminded of a form Harry had asked him to sign a couple of years ago). In unrelated news, apparently a petty criminal had been found in the very town the Dursleys lived in, with his neck snapped like plywood. Petunia shivered.  
  
Suddenly there was a hard knocking at the door.  
  
'Will you get that woman?' growled Vernon. Petunia quickly stood and walked to the door, trying to remember the last time Vernon had spoken to her with affection.  
  
'Who is it?' she called out through the thick door, trying to peer through the eye-hole. She could vaguely see a dark eyed young man, who appeared to have bleached his hair blond. Kids.  
  
'Police, dear.' He said, in a voice that sounded rather forceful for a visiting police officer. 'Son by the name of Dudley, miss? We've got some bad news for you.'  
  
Petunia was wracked with sobs, dreading the worst. She just about managed to gasp 'You better come in then' as she slid back the locks and opened the door. As she looked up, trying to blink away her tears, she asked 'what's wrong?' before she started crying. Then she looked properly.  
  
The young man, who looked about mid twenties, was certainly not a police man. There was a prominent scar on his left eyebrow, he was wearing a knee length leather jacket, and large boots. Standing slightly behind him was a slightly spaced out looking woman, pretty though she was, with her hair tied back in a slightly archaic fashion, although not as archaic as the Victorian cloak and dress she wore.  
  
The young man with bleached hair smiled smugly, like he was enjoying a really private joke. 'What's wrong, love? Your Dudley is about to become a bloody orphan.' Then his face distorted into something horrible and demonic, with blazing yellow eyes.  
  
The woman next to him spoke in a slightly detached tone, with a slight cockney accent, 'My Spike is ever so naughty. He's not the police at all. He's a big bad wolf, and he's going to huff and puff and blow your house down!'  
  
The woman giggled slightly, but Petunia didn't notice because Spike bit her neck, and drank eagerly of her blood. Then he let her drop, and her body made a soft thudding sound.  
  
'Thanks for inviting us in.' he grinned, as he stepped over the heap.  
  
Vernon was engrossed in his crossword, so Spike crept quietly behind his chair.  
  
'Ten across is "mercy"' said Spike loudly. His ears picked up the sound of Drusilla dripping blood into Petunia's mouth. Excellent…this one was free game.  
  
'You what?' said Vernon, spluttering as he span (or attempted to spin) in his chair. 'Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?'  
  
'I'm Spike', he replied, as Drusilla glided into the room like a lazy shark, 'and you're Dru's dinner.'  
  
***  
  
Sometimes I really wonder why I still do this job. That was the thought running through Professor Snape's head. Expect high standards of people who don't want to learn, and suddenly you're a bad person.  
  
Neville, the incompetent, had melted his cauldron. Again.  
  
Heaven save us from the weak-minded fools who say we can't cane the ones who don't pay attention. 'So, what do you think you did wrong today Mr Longbottom?' he asked the boy.  
  
Neville stammered something incoherent, and desperately tried to clean up the mess. The Gryffindor students glared at Snape, as if fools should be tolerated, and the Slytherins jeered at Neville as if there was something deeply amusing about humiliation. He wasn't sure which reaction annoyed him the most.  
  
If only something different would happen.  
  
***  
  
Spike and Drusilla had a new travelling companion. Petunia was settling in well, as if being a vampire was a hell of a lot better than being a mother and a wife. Spike privately thought that compared with marriage to that Vernon bloke, having your nads chewed off by a rabid dog would probably be preferable.  
  
Spike looked at Petunia. 'So, King's Cross yeah? This is where the school train comes to? Which platform?'  
  
Petunia stared back. 'I don't know which platform. We always left before Harry got onto the platform. Why didn't you let me eat Vernon? The bastard had it coming.'  
  
'Now now dear, don't think with your stomach. Dunno why chalky man couldn't tell us where the sodding thing comes off, they can't have changed it since he went to the damn school. Well, all we gotta do is find the platform, after that we can follow the tracks.'  
  
Drusilla had been quiet for the last five minutes, silently rocking to and fro on her heels, swaying gently. 'There's a wall here.' She started to wail quietly, 'A big nasty wall. But there's a door, and there's no wall really, and there's no door, and no big nasty wall, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!'  
  
Drusilla's loud wail attracted the attention of a security guard, who came hurrying toward the three.  
  
'Be a dear', Spike said to Petunia, 'and take care of that nasty looking blighter will you? Me and Dru are gonna take a peep at that big bad wall.' Having said that, Spike and Dru walked over to the wall between platforms 9 and 10, while Petunia busied herself with drinking the guard dry. When Petunia looked around, Spike and Dru were walking through the wall, so she ran after them once she had let the body drop. As she went through the wall, and felt the world briefly disappear, she heard a woman scream and drop something.  
  
***  
  
Timothy Freeley enjoyed his job. Studying at Hogwarts twenty years ago had been such a chore, and he had always preferred the world inside his head. Daydreamer. That's what they all called him. Well, what was wrong with dreams? They were much better than hard work, he certainly didn't want to be some mindless crony in the Ministry of Magic. So he drove the train from Kings Cross to Hogwarts. Tonight he was picking up another catering delivery for the kitchens at the school. He wondered privately if there would be fewer night deliveries if the house elves weren't so ready to give food to students outside of proper hours. Still, he liked the ride between destinations, so he never complained.  
  
Someone rapped on the window of the carriage behind the drivers compartment.  
  
Timothy got out of his chair, and walked into the passenger area, and looked through the clear glass of the door. A man was standing there, looking expectant. He didn't look like the usual guy, Bert. Bert certainly didn't wear a leather jacket, and he would never dye his hair that colour.  
  
Timothy opened the door, and leaned out. 'Where's Bert-' the rest of the sentence was cut off as two things happened. Firstly, he saw Bert's legs partially hidden behind a pillar, and secondly, Spike bit his neck.  
  
***  
  
Spike waited a few minutes for the train driver to come back round. As Timothy stood up, his face was full of demonic hunger. Spike pointed at Bert's body that he'd hidden not long ago.  
  
'Feed quickly.' He said, 'we've got a train to catch.'  
  
Timothy smiled.  
  
***  
  
It was very late at night. Professor McGonagall was marking homework again. She looked at her enchanted hourglass. Two in the morning, she thought, the children complain at how much I set them, they should try marking it all, see how they like that.  
  
She continued working for another ten minutes, and went to bed as soon as she felt her eyelids start to droop.  
  
***  
  
Filch was also up late. It was his job to patrol at nights, as well as clean during the day. It was amazing that he hadn't had a nervous breakdown yet, or collapsed from exhaustion. He suspected that the only thing keeping him going was the special wizard-made coffee that he drank in copious amounts each day. Theoretically it should allow him to cope with the twenty hour days he seemed to be expected to deal with, but he still felt like he was on the verge of something about to go wrong.  
  
He was waiting by the door at the moment, waiting for the catering delivery.  
  
A voice came through from the other side of the door.  
  
'Filch? You there? It's Timothy, umm…we've got the food out here.'  
  
Filch put down the Daily Prophet he had been reading, and got up from his creaky chair.  
  
'Well,' he said, 'get on with it.'  
  
There was some muffled, but urgent, whispering coming from behind the door, followed by what sounded like one person hitting the other around the back of the head.  
  
'Ow,' came Timothy's voice again, 'err…I can't come in unless you invite me. Err…it's the new protocol. Umm…didn't Dumbledore…err…tell you?'  
  
'No.' said Filch coldly. 'Will you stop pissing about and do your job?'  
  
'Look, mate' came another voice from behind the door, 'it's pissing down out here, will you just bloody well invite us in?'  
  
'Whatever you will,' muttered Filch. 'I think you've gone barmy from driving up and down the whole time. Come on in then you pratt.'  
  
'Finally.' said the voice that had spoken just before, as Filch opened the door. Filch stared for a few seconds. One man and two women dressed as Muggles were there, as well as Timothy. Except all three looked extremely angry, this state largely being contributed to by their yellow eyes, bestial frowns, and sharp, sharp teeth.  
  
Spike stepped in quickly and snapped Filch's neck. 'What a rude man.' He said absent-mindedly, as Drusilla bent down to feed from him. After a minute of feeding, Drusilla stood back up. She looked quite focused.  
  
'Spike my love. We're here.'  
  
'I know, Dru my pet. We're going to have a party.'  
  
Spike and Drusilla grinned maliciously at each other. 


	2. Chapter 2

Can I Come In?  
  
1 Part Two  
  
Breakfast in Hogwarts that Wednesday morning was as noisy as ever with the murmur of talk between the students. High above them the dining hall's ceiling displayed a gloomy and over cast sky, which showed a definite inclination towards a thunderstorm later. Everyone was certainly glad to be indoors at this time, although some were commiserating each other on having a Care of Magical Creatures lesson in the afternoon. After the spectacle of the blast ended Skrewts the previous year, there was a certain consensus that the students would be very happy if they never saw a magical animal again, excepting those few who shared Hagrid's insane delight for the dangerous. These people were easily distinguished by the fact Madame Pomfrey knew them on sight, a privilege shared also by Harry Potter and his friends.  
  
The teachers ate rather more quietly, and Professor McGonagall was whispering to Dumbledore.  
  
'No-one's seen Albus Filch, not since last evening when everyone went to bed. Now I'm not saying the poor man doesn't need to rest occasionally, goodness knows I have enough late nights, but he always makes himself seen. Maybe I'm just over-reacting, it's not been long, but after that business with poor Cedric Diggory-' McGonagall couldn't say anymore, and seemed to be struggling to hold back tears.  
  
'I do see what you mean,' said Dumbledore softly, 'but I'm not entirely sure that this is surprising. The poor man is somewhat over-worked running around after Peeves. I shall send someone to enquire upon his health…I think some time off may be in order.' Dumbledore looked rather old and tired himself. 'Still…if there is cause for fear, you are right to bring this to my attention. With Voldemort's return, it is entirely possible there are Death Eaters among us even now.'  
  
A few other teachers who heard this shivered.  
  
Professor McGonagall spoke again. 'Is there anything we should do…in case?'  
  
Dumbledore thought for a moment, while absent mindedly eating some toast spread with orange and sun fruit marmalade. 'I think there will be no immediate need to cause concern. Perhaps one of the teachers will volunteer to teach dueling to the children?'  
  
McGonagall replied, 'Didn't Lockhart teach- sorry, pardon me, I think I'd forgotten what a buffoon that man was.'  
  
The teachers remained in conversation, except for Professor Snape, who was pushing the food around on his plate while looking deep in concentration, as if he was hoping to find a nugget of gold amongst the eggs and bacon.  
  
***  
  
Harry, Hermione, and Ron were also eating, although they were talking very animatedly.  
  
'Did you hear that no-one's seen Filch since yesterday?' asked Ron, looking at Harry. Hermione was sitting next to Ron, which meant that Harry had to lean behind Ron if he wanted to talk to her.  
  
'Good.' Muttered Harry between mouthfuls of egg. 'Maybe we won't get yelled at just because we get mud on our shoes.'  
  
Ron thought for a moment and said, 'Do you think he's been sacked by Dumbledore for being such a complete c-'  
  
Hermione leaned in front of Ron and interrupted him, perhaps fortunately for those first years who had not yet expanded their vocabulary in certain directions. 'What if he hasn't left though? Have you thought that maybe it's something to do with Voldemort? He has come back in case you've forgotten.'  
  
Harry looked back at her, as though he really wished he hadn't been reminded. Which was in fact the case, because he was very much trying not to remember what Cedric had looked like, lying there in the grave yard with his eyes wide and staring. Cho Chang wasn't doing too well either, she'd really liked Cedric. Harry felt guilty about having a crush on her given the events of last year.  
  
He looked at Hermione with more than a hint of distress on his face. 'It can't be Voldemort can it? He wouldn't dare, not with Dumbledore around, would he? Besides, why would he kill Filch?'  
  
Ron muttered loudly, 'Strategic corridor mess purposes?'  
  
A few Gryffindor students looked rather amused at this, and some laughed a bit too loudly, attracting attention from further down the table. Hermione didn't look entirely convinced, but conceded that Filch was an unlikely target. Apart from the students, who did he really make an enemy of?  
  
***  
  
'You know Petunia love, you could do with moving your elbow a bit,' Spike said, with a certain tone to his voice, and a vicious glare on his face that succeeded well despite not showing his vampiric nature.  
  
The four vampires were crammed into a broom cupboard, along with Filch's dead body, which they hadn't had time to dispose of properly. They'd barely got inside and locked the door before the sun rose, by the time they had found a good hiding spot for the day. Drusilla and Petunia were on either side of Spike, but also facing each other because of the tight space. Timothy was crouched on the floor, with the corpse leaning heavily upon him. Spike had briefly considered staking him to get a bit more room in the cupboard, but decided he would need all the cannon fodder he could get before the plan went ahead.  
  
Petunia shot him a glance back. 'If I move any more, I'm likely to get that dead guy's arse in my face when I trip over.'  
  
Spike didn't comment. He was hoping that a bit of slapstick might amuse Drusilla, who was quieter than usual.  
  
Tim's voice came up muffled from the floor. 'What's the plan anyway, boss?'  
  
Spike replied immediately. 'Tonight we eat a few more people. We turn them into vampires. We make lots of lovely vampires. Then we all dance around a may-pole singing bloody Kumbaya. What the hell do you think we're here for?'  
  
Drusilla saved him the trouble. 'We're going to blow out the candles. We're going to show them the true meaning of Christmas, with lots of ghosts and Dickens and snow.'  
  
There was a pause. 'Err..pet. No we aren't. It's bonfire night in two nights, but not very near Christmas. We're here to kill people, and get the boy, right? Then we call in Mr Snow White. Well, there's such a thing as planning too much. We could just kill everyone.'  
  
Drusilla looked hurt for a second. Then she brightened and smiled broadly. 'Do you think Santa will have a present for me?'  
  
Spike sighed. Sleep couldn't come fast enough.  
  
***  
  
Harry Potter, the rest of the 5th year Gryffindors, as well as Hufflepuff (there was a general air of thanks that the Slytherins were not with them in this class for once) were having their first lesson that day. Defence against the Dark Arts. Once more there was a new Dark Arts teacher, and the poor woman would probably have a nervous breakdown if she was aware of the betting pool running on how long she would last. The previous teachers had been a servant of Voldemort, an incompetent, a werewolf, and a further servant of Voldemort (although this latter fact was known to only a very few, including Harry Potter) disguised as an Auror, a hunter of Dark wizards.  
  
In any case, although the woman was clearly new to teaching, there was no doubt that Professor Melissa Aconite knew what she was talking about. It was just that she was rather nervous.  
  
'So…um, if you'll open your books at chapter twenty, today we are looking at general techniques. For some reason Dumbledore wants me to teach you how to fend off Dementors, which is frightfully odd if you ask me. Still…err…yes, first important reminded: Dementors represent fear. Once you know that, you have a basis to go on. There is nothing to fear but fear itself.' She fiddled with the lining of her robes slightly, as if she wished she could feel certain about this knowledge.  
  
The class gave her dubious looks. The general feeling was that there was plenty more to fear than fear itself, and painful lingering death was up there in the top five.  
  
'Now, the Patronus is much more than any of you could be rightly expected to manage, so goodness knows why Dumbledore expects me to teach…but never mind. I hear that Mr Potter did some work with…Professor Loopy-'  
  
'Lupin', the class responded as one.  
  
'Oh, so sorry, my handwriting is a bit off today. So, if Mr Potter would like to come to the front of the class, while I get the Boggart from out back.'  
  
Harry reluctantly shuffled to the front of the class, while Professor Aconite wandered into a back room, and started dragging out a metal cage, covered with hemp cloth. Harry was privately glad that Slytherin did not share this class, as Draco Malfoy would no doubt be publicly mocking him.  
  
'Now class, I've put blinders on the Boggart so that he can only see Harry. That way he shouldn't wander between shapes. Now Harry, when I let him out, show them how to do the Patronus spell. Try to take slow steps so that they can see it clearly.'  
  
Professor Aconite opened a small wire door, and out billowed a dark cloaked figure, which drew hideous breath in rattling gasps. Rotting cold hands reached out for Harry, and a feeling of despair washed across the class. Someone screamed.  
  
***  
  
'Well,' said Hermione, 'that was…an interesting lesson.' She coughed.  
  
Ron was still shaking slightly.  
  
Harry looked thoughtfully up at the sky image that played across the dining hall's ceiling. 'Who'd have thought that a boy could get a pitch that high?' mused a fellow Gryffindor from across the table.  
  
'What kind of a teacher puts a Dementor in front of a class?' Ron had finally managed to say something, just about starting to leave his shell- shocked state.  
  
'Well, technically it wasn't a De-' Hermione began, but she was drowned out by a chorus of assents.  
  
'Personally I think she's the best teacher we have this year.' Said Dean Thomas boldly.  
  
'Isn't that because she's about twenty and wears tight fitting robes?' asked one of the sixth year Gryffindors.  
  
Dean went an interesting colour of red.  
  
Hermione defended Professor Aconite, which surprised even herself. 'Well, I heard that she has a lot of experience fighting the Dark Arts and monsters and stuff. She's probably the best one for the job at the moment.' Hermione's expression on her face indicated that she thought this was the last word.  
  
'Lots of experience?' asked Ron incredulously, 'what kind of person has lots of experience fighting the Dark Arts at that age?'  
  
There was a short pause, as Gryffindors stopped eating, and looked pointedly at Harry.  
  
'Oops.' Said Ron.  
  
***  
  
Professor Mundanus was teaching a class of final year Ravenclaws, on a specialised course within Muggle Studies. He was considerably more cheerful in these lectures than in those he gave to the third and fourth years, where information could only be covered in basic terms. Also, the Ravenclaw students were also among the most intelligent students in the school, which made his job easier. Although an old wizard unlike the rest of the teaching staff he wore clothes much more suited to a Muggle university lecturer, although he wore thin robes over these.  
  
There were only about fifteen students in this particular class, and they were all peering intently at the current topic of discussion. A group of ten Muggles, all looking slightly nervous, were lined up, standing behind a long table, facing towards the class. Professor Mundanus stood to one side of the table, and occasionally flashed the Muggles a reassuring smile.  
  
'Now of course, we all know that the main, and indeed only, defining characteristic of a Muggle is that they cannot use magic. Now, there are many theories about why this is, but nothing has been proven, which is why with Dumbledore's permission, I have recruited these Muggles,' again he smiled at the Muggles, who looked slightly calmer than before, 'to examine any obvious differences. Between you and me, I'm rather hoping that I can find a way to turn a Muggle into a wizard or a witch. Think of how improved the world would be if everyone could use magic!'  
  
And because none of the Ravenclaws in the class knew Neville Longbottom, the world they imagined was indeed quite a pleasant and wonderful place.  
  
***  
  
The tall figure was robed in deep black, that seemed to reflect the dark void of the universe. His voice was cold and full of disdain, as he spoke to the wretched servant at his side.  
  
'My servant is in place, Wormtail. It is a simple task I ask of you, to go to Hogwarts, and tell that to the one I have sent on commission. That is all he needs to know, to begin his task. The only threat to you is if you…annoy him. I have told him that you are my servant, that should be enough.'  
  
The balding man known as Wormtail whimpered. He had met the person before, that he was asked to carry a message to. He had hoped never to see the fiend again, never to see that vicious and hateful glare in his eyes.  
  
The tall figure seemed displeased by Wormtail's reluctance. 'Your hand is a mark of my favour. Is that not enough? Or must I find another way to…encourage you?' Bone-white fingers lingered lazily across the length of a wand.  
  
Wormtail grimaced. 'I leave at once, my Lord.'  
  
'Good.'  
  
***  
  
Professor Melissa Aconite (who much preferred to be called Mel, and certainly not Aconite, which was not even her real surname) was tidying her drawers out in her office. She mused at how she had come to teach here. She was good at what she did, but she worked in the field. She had a natural flair for operating in the everyday situation. But teaching a room full of children who just stared, waiting for you to tell them what to think? That worried Mel much more than mere monsters, who could be disposed of quite easily. She hadn't even studied to become a professor. She'd been given the qualification by the Ministry of Magic discreetly when Dumbledore had requested that she teach at Hogwarts. Honestly. Still, she went where she was needed, and it seemed that she was needed here.  
  
She opened up the locked drawer at the bottom of the left hand side. There were several items there that certainly no-one else would bother to keep. If any of the students knew her well enough to know that she was a devout atheist, they might have expressed wonder at why she kept quite so many wooden crosses.  
  
***  
  
It wasn't much later, thanks to the speed at which wizards could travel, that a rat was roaming the draughty corridors of Hogwarts. Rather curiously, one of its paws appeared to be made of gleaming silver. Keeping to the shadows, it darted across doorways and leaped over students feet, as they walked about their business without much concern.  
  
Eventually it came to a door. Without a second glance at the rest of the corridor, it nipped underneath, squeezing in through the largest crack that it could find. It was rather surprised to find itself in darkness. Then it caught the scent that a human nose would not yet detect. The scent of death.  
  
The rat scrambled around in the darkness, and eventually found it's way to the top of Filch's body, where it perched on the area of robes that covered his stomach. It squeaked slightly, attracting the attention of the one it had been sent to.  
  
'Ah.' Said Spike, 'a mouse. A fuzzy little mouse is the messenger? Of course, I wouldn't want to be working with anyone sane would I? Oh no, first it's Angelus and his bloody rock, and now…honestly.' Spike looked directly at the mouse, and said in loud slow words, the way you might speak to a rather slow-witted child, 'Minnie…mouse…is…not…here.'  
  
The mouse did not look amused. Rather, it grew larger, and distorted into the shape of a rather plump and middle-aged wizard, balding extremely, and looking more or less terrified.  
  
Of course, in his position, this caused him to fall backwards against the door, and then land heavily on Tim, who groaned loudly. Filch's corpse was thrown into Petunia, who stumbled somewhat, and had to grab Spike in order to prevent herself falling over.  
  
Spike looked rather angry. Wormtail made a noise rather like a rabbit looking into headlights, and stammered nervously. 'Umm…m-m-m-my Lord bade me come, to t-t-t-tell y-you t-t-that h-h-his s-servant is h-here.'  
  
Spike looked at Wormtail, his expression not changing remotely. 'Is that all?' he asked.  
  
Wormtail looked unsure for a moment. 'Uh, I think so. Yes, that is a-a- all…Errr…I'll be leaving now, okay?'  
  
Tim slowly staggered to his feet, standing behind Wormtail. The compressed space of the cupboard meant that Wormtail was pressed up against all four of the vampires.  
  
'Oh, I don't think so.' said Spike softly, 'That is a very pretty little hand you have there. I was just thinking that it would be just the thing for Dru's room, put a little bit of shine into it you know?'  
  
The vampires pressed even closer against Wormtail, and before he could scream, Petunia's hand was clamped over his mouth.  
  
On the other side of the door, a group of fifth years headed noisily towards their Quidditch lesson. They didn't hear the faint thuds that emanated from the broom cupboard, or the frantic, but muffled, moans of fear and pain.  
  
They didn't even hear the amused voice which said, 'Right, tonight it is then.' 


	3. Chapter 3

Can I Come In?  
  
1 Part Three  
  
Professor Aconite walked briskly into the library. It was a large wing, and she privately wondered occasionally at how students could possibly find everything they needed to find. Of course, she'd always managed back when she was a student at Hogwarts, but she couldn't remember how she had located set books. You certainly didn't try to talk to the librarian, which was what she was about to do.  
  
Madam Pince looked remarkably like a member of the undead. Her skin was tight on her bones, and she had a sharp look about her, unhindered by her 'advanced' years. Meeting Pince again for the first time in about three or four years was an unnerving experience. She had to restrain many of her instincts that she had gained as an Augor, and a-  
  
'Yes?' said Madam Pince sharply and coldly. Her voice put Professor Aconite- Melissa rather - in mind of a scalpel.  
  
'I wanted to know if a certain book had arrived. Some…beneficiaries sent me an owl post last week, they said they'd be sending it along. It's called 'Nosferatu Maleficius Thaumum.'  
  
Madam Pince narrowed her eyes. 'I remember you…you were always getting involved in fights, and you were always late returning books. Lost Gryffindor quite a lot of points I recall.'  
  
Great, thought Melissa, just what I need. Stupid prune getting upset just because I made myself noticed. Bitch.  
  
Melissa steeled her voice, and leaned forward. 'Just tell me if the book is here. Of course, if you want to dwell on my violent behaviour…that can be arranged.' She smiled nastily. She was damned if she was going to let Snape get the monopoly on menacing behaviour.  
  
Pince looked unimpressed, in the time honoured traditions of elderly librarians everywhere, but she rifled through a set of library records. 'Ah,' she said finally, 'it came in yesterday. Senders were virtually anonymous, just called themselves Grigori.'  
  
Grigori. Angels also known as Watchers. How terribly amusing. Maybe I should follow suit with the one in the U.S. and go independent. Then I might not have to put up with the incredible sense of 'humour.'  
  
Melissa kept her face devoid of emotion however. 'Thank you.' She said, 'I'd like to come back next week and have a look at it when I have time. I'll be teaching my class on vampires, and that has some of the best information upon them. It was written by one you know.' With that she walked out of the library, almost marching.  
  
'Fine.' Muttered Pince, 'Just so long as you bring it back on time.' She returned to sipping a cup of tea.  
  
***  
  
The Divination class for third year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs was proceeding much like any other Divination class. That is to say, having got past the initial terror of Madame Trelawney's incessant predictions of death (this year the unlucky victim was a Slytherin named Marie Neardrop who had become rather insular since she had taken up the class), the class had quickly realised that a little bluffing would go a long way. Those who were quicker on the uptake became Trelawney's favourites, earning them the ire of the one or two students who actual possessed some skill to See omens and the like.  
  
Following Dumbledore's announcement at the end of last year, regarding Cedric Diggory and the return of the Dark Lord, most students were cynically using this as fodder for predictions. If Trelawney thought anything odd of the seeming expectation of the entire class to die at the hands of Voldemort, she did not mention this.  
  
Today they were looking into crystal balls. Apart from one or two crude comments made by boys in the class, the lesson was proceeding quietly. The silence was broken only by the soft sound of Trelawney's robes and skirt dragging along the floor as she glided by the pouffes her students sat upon (a Slytherin who had whispered a comment about this rather too loudly had lost his house 10 points the previous lesson. Not that that prevented the matter from becoming a running joke).  
  
Trelawney paused by Marie Neardrop, who trembled slightly, and steeled herself against what Trelawney would no doubt predict for her. Trelawney bent over, bringing her eyes as close as possible to the crystal ball. She made a soft humming sound, as though musing over a difficult problem. Marie gritted her teeth, as Madame Trelawney opened her mouth to speak.  
  
'Hmmm…It appears that you will experience a great deal of good fortune this evening.' Trelawney looked slightly puzzled, or dazed. The rest of the class looked puzzled too, not only was Trelawney making a happy prediction, but she had also started smiling widely, and was humming happily. She didn't seem to mind when they stopped working and talked loudly instead.  
  
As the class left, on Hufflepuff, named James Vurtis mused aloud, 'Perhaps I shouldn't have put so many of those herbs in her tea just before she arrived…'  
  
Another Hufflepuff looked at James with horror on her face. 'You took herbs from the Herbology lesson to use on the teacher?'  
  
James, who had grown up in Manchester, paused and said 'Err…herbs from Herbology. Err…yes, that's right.' He went rather quiet after that.  
  
Unlike Madame Trelawney. They could hear her laughing from two corridors away.  
  
***  
  
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath. She was sitting behind her desk, in an empty room. She was draining the last of her coffee, and checking the last of her notes for this lesson. She let out the breath, and adapted an authoritative posture, smiled in approval at herself, and let the children into the classroom. They filed quietly to their seats, anxious not to draw her ire. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Should be relatively no trouble, she thought. Even if Harry Potter was in this class, there was hopefully little chance for the fifth years to become embroiled in an adventure during the actual lesson. She crossed her fingers.  
  
Today she was taking a slightly different direction with Transfiguration. She and Professor Flitwick were both teaching different aspects of enchantment of magical items. She dealt with the acquisition and selection of materials, and their preparation.  
  
She proceeded with the lesson.  
  
'Now, we dealt with the various materials commonly used across the board in magical items. Who can name one?'  
  
Minerva McGonagall was not remotely surprised to find Hermione's hand among the first to reach for attention. Still, this was an easy question, and other students could do with the attention.  
  
'You, Miss Abbott, please tell me.'  
  
'Unicorn hair, dragon heart strings, and phoenix-'  
  
'I only asked for one, but very well done,' the girl flushed with pride, 'and five points to Hufflepuff.'  
  
Professor McGonagall, having hopefully jogged their memory regarding the basics, decided it was time to engage their interest. A small anecdote then.  
  
'There are records,' Minerva began, 'of a remote civilisation that preceded the Mayans in South America. On one day, towards the end of their empire, a strange rock crashed near a village, a meteorite. They used the metal parts to construct a sceptre of authority, thinking that it would give the wielder a commanding presence, and the ability to heal whomsoever he touched.'  
  
There was a pause amongst the class. 'Did it?', Hermione finally asked, breaking the silence.  
  
'No.' said the professor. 'It blew up an area of land sufficient to destroy the capital city, ten small villages, and a large portion of rainforest.' Professor McGonagall paused for effect. 'Let that be a lesson,' she continued, 'if ever you wish to use an exotic material in the creation of an item, be very sure you know what magical properties it contains.'  
  
***  
  
After lunch, the school remained assembled in the dining hall, as the tables and chairs faded into the floor. They were being given the first of a series of duelling lessons, in an attempt to calm down those who were spreading rumours regarding Albus Filch's disappearance. Half a day having gone by without anyone seeing him had made it conclusive that this was more than him skulking off into a dark corner for a few hours.  
  
Murmurs were passing back and forth, pondering who would be teaching duelling. Lockhart had attempted a lesson about three years ago, and those who had been at the school at the time remembered precisely how useless he was. Currently the debate favoured McGonagall, Snape, or perhaps Dumbledore himself. Although she was the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Aconite was ruled out at an early stage, seeming rather to shy to teach the school as a whole.  
  
So it was quite surprising when she walked out, slightly abashed looking admittedly, and greeted the school nervously. More surprisingly, she wasn't wearing teaching robes. She appeared to be wearing loose jeans, a casual t shirt, and boots that made the observer think the words 'steel' and 'toe-caps'. She was also carrying a large backpack.  
  
'Ah. Hello!' she called out to the mass of children. 'I'm going to be teaching you duelling and self-defence. I'm going to be taking a slightly different method than other teachers – I'll be teaching you magical and non- magical tactics.' Having said that, she opened up her backpack. The students of Hogwarts gasped as she removed an impressive array of daggers, axes, swords, and even a heavy crossbow. However, she left these on the floor, and instead held aloft her wand.  
  
'First things first. Magical combat tends to be quite fast. If one curse hits you, and it's the killing curse, then you're dead. Don't want to scare you, but that's how it is. So, what I'm going to teach you is some combat, some deflective, and some shielding spells. Almost all of them are going to be flashy. This makes sense in duelling, it can often distract your opponent if done well.'  
  
She made a complex gesture in the air with her wand, and mist seeped from the tip, and encircled her. Soon she could not be seen at all. The mist covered the entire raised area where the teachers eat during meal times, and there was no way of knowing where Professor Aconite was standing. The students looked suitably impressed, and Hermione was trying to commit to memory the gesture that Professor Aconite had used.  
  
The students were even more impressed when Professor Aconite soared out of the mist about three feet to the left of where she had stood. Even more impressed were they when it quickly became obvious that she had not used magic to achieve such a high leap. She landed deftly amid the students, and performed a quick double somersault that carried her a further five feet from where she had arrived.  
  
'The second lesson. Never be afraid to abandon magical combat for physical. Most wizards and witches will find it difficult to curse you if you whack them between the eyes with a big lump of wood.' Aconite wasn't remotely out of breath.  
  
'Third lesson. Don't be afraid to fight dirty. Your foes will use any means to bring you down, the trick is to be intelligent about it. A Death Eater once nearly performed the killing curse upon me. What saved me was that he felt over-confident with my wand being in his hand. At that point I kicked him in the crown jewels' (at this point every male in the room winced, except those who were unaware of the meaning of the euphemism 'crown jewels.') 'this had the desired effect of distracting him. He's on holiday in Azkaban now.' Aconite smiled lightly.  
  
The class shivered slightly. There were few in the school who had not felt the terror of the Dementors two years previously, and Azkaban was not joked about. [Harry Potter had once asked Aconite out of curiosity what she saw when the Dementors were near her. She had replied 'just another pasty thing that needs kicking.']  
  
Aconite handed out large wooden poles to the students. 'Pair up' she said, 'we're going to practice physical combat. This will put you one up on most Death Eaters in certain situations.'  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione wondered if Aconite had any particular reason for pairing Draco Malfoy up against a six foot Hufflepuff, who was known for disliking Slytherins even more than most people. They dismissed this as coincidence. They were too busy focusing on the rather large lump of wood that had been given to him.  
  
Draco had noticed this too, and complained loudly about the size of his pole to professor Aconite, and no doubt was about to start threatening her with his father, when Aconite made a rather scathing comment back. Harry couldn't quite hear what she said, but he thought he could hear 'Freud' in there somewhere.  
  
***  
  
High up in the tower where Divination was taught, Madame Trelawney was still laughing. James Vurtis might have rethought his practical joke if he had known that Madame Trelawney owned a magical teacup that could refill its contents indefinitely.  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile, Drusilla was the only vampire still awake in the broom cupboard. She was admiring a present Spike had given her just an hour before. It was a pretty silver hand, made in exquisite detail. The only aspect that might have marred it to a human observer was the dried blood that coated the part that might have been connected to a wrist.  
  
***  
  
There were not a great many of them, perhaps about ten. But it would be enough. Ten figures, robed in darkest black, wearing fearsome masks, were discussing the plan. That night they would walk the streets of the town they had temporarily located themselves in, and they would create havoc. After all, they had their parts to play too.  
  
***  
  
Dinner that evening in Hogwarts was no more noisy than most other dinners. There were still some rumours circulating about Filch, but these were relatively few. Nothing new had happened since, and so most of the students were merely waiting for the next shocking incident [which could almost be used to set the watch by at Hogwarts]. Dinner came to a close without event, and the pupils filed away to the house dormitories. The sky reflected in the ceiling of the dining room was dark and forbidding.  
  
***  
  
The dark figures were walking down the streets of the town. It was very, very dark, the street lights failing to do little than provide an orange sheen to the objects in the dark. They walked in an arrow formation, walking confidently through the night. The leader stopped walking, apparently satisfied that this was the correct place. The others stopped, and did not question.  
  
The leader looked both left and right, and settled his gaze finally on one of the houses on the right. It was a pretty house, a decent example of a nice suburban area. The figure raised his arm, and pointed a slender length of wood at the house.  
  
'Infernus Malefus!' he said. The house immediately erupted into a blazing fire, as if suddenly a gas leak within had ignited once it had filled the house from roof to foundation. Sudden warmth and light washed over the robed figures, and across the street.  
  
A man came running out of his house, from the left side of the street, still in his pyjamas, through his front garden, and looked over his gate. A panicked expression was plastered to his face, which was mingled with a little anger as he saw the group of people dressed in flowing black robes who watched the fire impassively.  
  
'What the hell do you think you're doing?' he shouted, correctly assuming that they had started the fire. However, it was rather unfortunate for him that he had attracted their attention.  
  
The leader of the group gestured a lazy command to the figure behind him standing just to his left. The lesser Death Eater span around sharply, aimed its own wand at the man, and shouted.  
  
'Avada Kedavra!' came the cry.  
  
There was a rushing sound, as of air coming to fill a vacuum, the street was awash in green light, that allowed the robed figures to observe every detail around them, and the man was thrown backwards several feet.  
  
The robed figures then began to spread out into the night. They had to do a lot more than this to fulfil their purpose.  
  
***  
  
The broom cupboard's door creaked open. Not slowly, but with some speed. Tim left first, followed by Drusilla and Petunia. Spike left the cupboard last, having shoved the dead bodies of Albus Filch and Wormtail up against the wall. The face of Filch looked more or less unemotional – his death had caught him by surprise, leaving him with a neck that twisted at a hideous angle. Wormtail's face, however, was twisted with pain and fear. His neck was covered with bite marks.  
  
Spike locked the broom cupboard behind him, although he didn't really care if anyone found the bodies at this point. He walked over to one of the suits of armour that seemed to litter the damn castle. He gave it an appraising look, and then took the long sword that it held. He grinned widely, and looked at the other vampires.  
  
'Show time,' he said. 


	4. Chapter 4

Can I Come In?  
  
1 Part Four  
  
Trevor Bastarrus, a prefect of Slytherin house, was patrolling near the entrance to the courtyard, and near where Filch slept. He wasn't nervous really, he had patrolled for two months now, and it was routine for him. The rumours circulating regarding the disappearance of Filch the caretaker did not suggest that anyone was in Hogwarts at this time. Indeed, one of the emerging popular theories was that Filch had had a nervous breakdown and run away. Trevor didn't miss Filch one bit. The bastard didn't make life easy for anyone. When Voldemort returned, as his dad had spent the last few months assuring him he would, Trevor had always hoped that the first to go would be Filch, by his hand if necessary. But now he'd just disappeared. Such a disappointment.  
  
Lost in reverie, Trevor walked around a corner, and walked straight into a person he'd never seen before, dressed in black, wearing a long leather jacket, who looked quite dangerous. The long sword that he casually carried like it weighed nothing added to the impression. Walking behind the man were three others, two women (one of whom dressed like a muggle from one of the old Victorian history books) and one man (who was a wizard, although that didn't comfort Trevor much). Trevor took a startled step back, as did the man he had just walked into.  
  
Trevor raised his wand arm, but the strange man jerked his sword arm up, and thrust so that the point of the sword was just a centimetre from reshaping his jugular.  
  
'Say any mumbo jumbo kiddy-wink,' said Spike, holding the sword steady, 'and you part company with your head. Got it? Nod if you understand.'  
  
Trevor nervously nodded. Suddenly being a prefect didn't seem like such an excellent way to advance himself as it once had.  
  
'Good,' said Spike, 'Now, where's the room that belongs to Professor Mundanus?'  
  
***  
  
The suburban area of the town, somewhere near Northampton, in which the robed figures had arrived was burning fiercely. Twenty people lay dead out in the streets. They had run out to escape the flames, or to see what was going on, and had been slain for their efforts. The onslaught had only been going on for ten minutes, and the Death Eaters expected members of the Ministry for Magic to Apparate in soon, when the news of the carnage reached the fools.  
  
In the distance, a police siren sounded. It was getting nearer.  
  
The leader of the group of Death Eaters smiled with satisfaction. Target practice.  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore was sitting up late in his office. He absentmindedly stirred a mug of coffee, and popped a lemon sherbet into his mouth. He sucked on it with a far away look in his eye. He seemed rather troubled. Eventually he walked over to a cupboard in his rather cramped office (not cramped by lack of floor space, but by the towering piles of papers and magical trinkets), and retrieved a large bowl. He took out his wand, and drew forth small lines of silver gossamer from his head, and placed them in the bowl. The bowl began to flicker with images. Normally it would play entire scenes from his memory, but for now he wanted to search for small items of information. None of it seemed to help, so he sat back in his chair and mused.  
  
Voldemort was returned to the world. He must surely be drawing his supporters back to him. In time, he would find new followers. No-one would be safe then.  
  
That was why he had sent for Melissa. She had been asked to use a different surname while she taught at Hogwarts. It wouldn't do for a follower of Voldemort to report to him who had returned to Hogwarts. Snape had been against it of course. He didn't seem to like her after that incident several years ago when she had punched him squarely in the face.  
  
A flicker of a smile may have appeared on Dumbledore's face, but in the flickering candlelight it was rather difficult to tell.  
  
Apparently Melissa had been sent a book. Dumbledore was unaccustomed to being unaware of events, but it seemed that Melissa had unknown allies, who made a point of remaining unknown. Of course, Melissa had always seemed to be operating by a different set of rules and priorities, but that kind of thing kept the school running.  
  
And Albus Filch was missing. That troubled Dumbledore more so. Mysterious disappearances were associated with the actions of Voldemort, but why would he capture the caretaker? Not that Filch didn't do his job well, but there were better targets to take if something was going to done within the Hogwarts castle. And how did they get in? Apparation was quite impossible, and the doors would not have been opened without force. That was not the case. Had someone even come into the castle in the first place? What if there were Death Eaters operating within the school even now?  
  
Dumbledore's musing was interrupted when green flame blossomed in his fireplace. It changed many different colours, before settling onto a healthy orange. Minister Fudge's face appeared in the flames. 'Dumbledore,' he said awkwardly. The last time they had spoken had not ended on very good terms.  
  
'Cornelius,' said Dumbledore, with rather more ice in his voice than was usually present.  
  
'I thought you'd want to know. There's been a Death Eater attack in a town near Northampton. We're sending everyone we have at the moment, and we're calling up the special attack squad to deal with the situation if it persists. Thought you should know.' Cornelius Fudge coughed nervously.  
  
'Thank you,' said Dumbledore, without much emotion showing, 'do you still persist in the belief that Voldemort has not returned?'  
  
Cornelius went red. Redder anyway, considering that his face was coloured by the flames. 'Now, Dumbledore, you don't mean to keep talking about that rot do you? Granted, the Death Eaters are getting rather more active, but that doesn't mean anything. We'll show them we aren't as weak as they think. I'm confident that we shall soon have the last of them rounded up and put in Azkaban.'  
  
Dumbledore had fire in his eyes, but he didn't let anger touch his words. 'Then we have little else to say, I'm afraid.'  
  
Fudge said nothing else, and the flame withdrew into nothingness.  
  
Dumbledore sighed. What he needed more than anything now was to just wander the corridors of Hogwarts. Perhaps he should speak to Melissa?  
  
He got up from his chair, and picked his path between piles of paper towards the door. He took the door handle in one hand. He would also have to see about appointing a new caretaker, given that Filch was likely-  
  
The door wouldn't open. Dumbledore rattled the handle rather more urgently, but nothing happened. 'Lumos!' he whispered. Light blossomed from his wand, revealing that the stone archway surrounding the door to his office had grown dark black tentacles, which had burrowed in the door, probably riddling it. The stone tentacles were moving, absorbing the door into itself. Soon the door was entirely stone.  
  
Dumbledore rushed hurriedly to the window. He could still send an owl post- The tentacles had already reached the window. He didn't even look at the fire place, which sounded like it had already filled itself in.  
  
He was trapped in his office. With Dark magic of this kind it would require someone on the other side of the door to perform the counter curse.  
  
Dumbledore settled back into his chair, and sipped his coffee. On the whole, he reflected, he could be in a far worse situation. The students and the teaching staff were quite capable. Of a great many things… he thought with a twist of irony. He made a mental note to allocate school budgets to the cleaning staff. Thirty additional house elves for the clean up period, which should be no more than a month, should be sufficient.  
  
He leaned back in the chair, and looked at Fawkes, his phoenix.  
  
'Do you know any good songs?' Dumbledore asked.  
  
Outside the door to Dumbledore's office (which was crawling with dark tentacles, joining together to create a cruel faced gargoyle) a figure dressed in flowing black robes walked briskly away. His first task was done, but he still had work to do tonight.  
  
***  
  
The Slytherin prefect was the first to walk into Professor Mundanus' class room. He was followed by the four vampires, Spike holding the sword to his back. Spike gestured to Trevor to sit behind a desk, while he still held the sword in a ready position.  
  
'Drusilla, darling,' Spike said, 'our employer says that there are a bunch of humans sleeping in the room behind that locked door. Do us a favour, take our two newest friends, and see about making us some cannon fodder servants.'  
  
Drusilla smiled. 'Oh! How wonderful…we shall be having a picnic with the teddy bears, we'll surprise them in the woods, and we'll snuff them! Would they look pretty as candles? My last candles didn't last long at all.'  
  
Spike's voice was firm. 'No. We're making them into vampires Dru. No candles. The screaming gets on my nerves, and frankly burning human doesn't smell much better.'  
  
Trevor went white. He was doing his best to not be noticed, but the sword wasn't moving an inch.  
  
Drusilla seemed quite upset. Spike's face softened slightly. 'Look, tell you what, when all this is over, I'll treat you. I'll give you lots of candles when your birthday comes around next, okay?' Drusilla nodded and smiled weakly, slightly mollified. She walked over to the door leading to the room where the muggles slept. It was locked.  
  
'I can do a spell to unlock-' began Tim. He was interrupted when Drusilla snarled and ripped the door off the hinges. The muggles started to scream as she advanced into the room, followed by Petunia, and a slightly shocked Timothy. After five minutes it went quiet again.  
  
Trevor was scared witless. 'S-someone will have heard?' he said. It was meant to be a statement, but he was so scared, and trying to sound non- threatening, and it came out as a question.  
  
Spike grinned at him maliciously. 'Sound doesn't leave this room. It was fixed for us like that. I could cut you into little bits and no one would know.'  
  
Trevor whimpered. And then a cough came from the door. Spike glanced around. A figure dressed in long black robes, wearing a hideous wooden mask over its face, was standing there.  
  
'Ah,' said Spike, as the first of the newly created vampires came into the class room. 'Here's the contact Mr Chalky-face mentioned. Everything going to plan?' he asked.  
  
'Perfectly,' said Professor Mundanus.  
  
***  
  
Ten Death Eaters flew in arrow formation over Northampton on broomsticks. Twenty wizards and witches had Apparated in from the Ministry for Magic, and were giving chase. Occasionally the Death Eaters flung a destructive spell down upon the town they flew over, forcing a group of the Ministry wizards and witches to land in order to deal with the ensuing havoc and perform memory alterations. This kept the Ministry representatives from performing much in the way of organised activities, and there was a certain impasse in the favour of the Death Eaters (although as far as the Ministry knew, there was no escape for them).  
  
Just as a group of four witches strafed from the left in order to head off the Death Eaters, the followers of Voldemort took a sudden dive, and veered towards the right, which became a U-turn. They soared under a group of wizards who were trying to keep up with the sudden change, but before the Ministry could catch up, they each performed a mist spell in unison. The resultant cloud obscured a rather large range, in which the Ministry wizards flew aimlessly, before it was blown away by wind three minutes later.  
  
The Death Eaters were nowhere to be seen.  
  
'Bloody hell,' said the witch in charge of the operation. 'What are we going to tell Fudge? They could have gone to ground in a house, Disapparated anywhere… There's no way we can search the whole town or country for them!'  
  
Several of the others joined her in swearing profusely.  
  
***  
  
As Hermione was often forced to remind her friends, it was quite impossible to Apparate within the grounds of Hogwarts. This was to prevent stealthy entry to the grounds. However, provided one knew where the grounds were, it was possible to Apparate just outside, and to then make the rest of the way as usual, with broomsticks and the like.  
  
And this is what the small group of Death Eaters were doing precisely as Professor Mundanus arrived to find that Spike had not waited for him before having the muggles made into vampires. It had not been intended that all ten would be made vampires, but that five would be made, and these five would eat the other five. As it stood, the Death Eaters were now liable to be out-numbered by hungry vampires. But this didn't suggest a problem to Mundanus' mind.  
  
As this went on, the Death Eaters stealthily crept across the grounds, avoiding the crackling heaps of leaves deposited on the grass by the ravages of autumn. The darkness hid them remarkably well, and Dumbledore was not in a position to be observing the surrounding area. At least this would be the case, thought the leading Death Eater, if the Death Eater Mundanus performed his task competently. Which he would, if he did not want to die, for he was already disapproved of for not having Apparated to Voldemort's side several months ago. That had allowed him to remain in a position of usefulness, but still…  
  
***  
  
The newly made vampires were growling hungrily.  
  
'What do you mean I wasn't supposed to make them all vampires?' asked Spike, 'what the bloody hell were they there for?'  
  
'Half vampires, half food,' sighed Mundanus. 'Didn't anyone tell you that?'  
  
'No,' said Spike irritably. 'Okay, you there, Tim the bloody train driver. You used to study here, go take the boys and girls, and give 'em something to eat.'  
  
Tim walked out, and the ten new vampires followed. Mundanus felt rather safer with fewer vampires in the room.  
  
Spike stood in contemplation. It was occurring to him that perhaps it was unwise to kill Wormtail. Voldemort had mentioned him being a favoured servant at the moment…Oh well. Water under the bridge. He looked up at Mundanus, who was fidgeting slightly.  
  
'How would you like to do me a big favour? Do it, and maybe you get to live forever.' Spike smiled. That would work on most people…  
  
'What kind of favour?' asked Mundanus warily.  
  
'Wormtail had a small…accident. Might look bad with the boss man. So, if you would like to go over to the broom cupboard near the court yard, and burn everything in it, and don't say anything, I'll owe you one, okay?'  
  
Mundanus looked thoughtful. He was already considered disloyal. On the other hand, if he disposed of the evidence sufficiently, he could claim that Wormtail had fled, which would no doubt make him look better by comparison… 'Okay,' he said, and left the room, despite extreme doubts as to whether this really was a wise course of action.  
  
'Petunia. Go see if you can find Harry Potter. The prefect will take you. If he gives you trouble, turn him into one of us, he should behave better then.' Petunia grinned unwholesomely in response. She left the room following Trevor Bastarrus, whom she held in a vice-like grip.  
  
Spike linked his arm with Drusilla's. 'And we,' he said to her, 'are off the library. We're not just here for old Voldie are we?' They both grinned.  
  
'But no need for him to know that just yet,' Spike added.  
  
***  
  
Madame Trelawney took another sip from her cup of tea. She felt slightly sleepy, and she had a craving for something sweet to eat. She retrieved a packet of chocolate frogs that she had confiscated during a lesson with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw earlier in the day. She started to chew a frog happily, in between fits of giggles.  
  
The tea cup was half full, but as the seconds went by, it slowly filled back up to the top.  
  
***  
  
Draco Malfoy was slouching in an over-stuffed armchair in the Slytherin dormitory. He shouldn't be awake, but he was, and he didn't feel like going to bed just yet. He flicked through a book bound in soft dark leather. It was supposed to be an authoritative guide to curses, but he was beginning to suspect that the author knew as much about curses as he did about the finer points of quantum physics.  
  
His father, Lucius, had told him not to venture out of the dormitory this night, but had refused to say why. He couldn't imagine why. He was quite capable of…well, he wasn't sure what of, but he still felt outraged that he shouldn't be involved in whatever plans were unfolding.  
  
Malfoy kept telling himself that one day he would be a Death Eater too. Now Voldemort was back, he'd finally see Harry Potter grovel.  
  
Earlier in the night, a third year called Marie had had to go to the toilets, but she wasn't back yet. Probably lost or something. Stupid girl. You could tell her parents weren't Death Eaters, or they'd have put some backbone into her.  
  
Draco Malfoy's thoughts were interrupted when a voice called out from the other side of the door to the Slytherin dormitories. Or at least from roughly on the other side. The door was disguised to look like part of the stone wall, so it was common for people to not find the exact location of it at first. 'Hello? Anyone in here?'  
  
Draco walked over to the door. 'Yeah, what do you want?'  
  
There was a pause on the other side. 'I just want to come and talk to some people. Like Lucius Malfoy's son for example.'  
  
'I'm Draco Malfoy. What do you want?'  
  
'We're working for the Dark Lord. Are you going to let us in or not?'  
  
Draco felt a thrill rush through him. Finally he would get to prove himself! He eagerly opened the door, and stood still in puzzlement. 'Hey,' he said, 'aren't you the train driver?'  
  
'Was,' said Timothy. He walked into the room, followed by the ten muggles that he had helped turn into vampires. They weren't wearing demonic faces, so Malfoy did not feel too alarmed. Although he was slightly indignant.  
  
'What are these muggles doing here?' he demanded.  
  
Timothy's face distorted. The bestial face that emerged regarded Draco with no small amount of amusement.  
  
'They're hungry,' Tim said as the other vampires assumed their demonic faces, 'and you know what? I never really liked Slytherins.'  
  
***  
  
Marie Neardrop couldn't believe it. She was locked in the toilets! Peeves had locked her in! She leaned against the wall, quietly fuming. She would have sat on the floor, but it was soaking wet. Moaning Myrtle was remaining true to her name, wailing in one of the toilet cubicles. If Marie got out of the toilet, Peeves was going to regret it. In the meantime though, she did her best to keep control of her slowly disappearing patience.  
  
And Madame Trelawney had said she was going to be lucky that night! Marie was now forced to join her co-students in declaring Madame Trelawney an absolute fake. How could this be described as being lucky?  
  
***  
  
Professor Aconite was patrolling the corridors again tonight. She was walking by the dungeons, when she noticed that the door to the Slytherin house area was gaping open. Normally it would never be left open. With a feeling of dread, Professor Aconite stepped to the far side of the corridor, to give herself the maximum amount of room to manoeuvre in. She stepped side ways so that she could see into the dormitory area, and see what was going on.  
  
Unfortunately, it turned out to be rather more serious than a student having gone for a walk and forgetting to shut the door behind them.  
  
Lying strewn across the floor were the corpses of many students. There looked enough to be most of Slytherin house, if not all. And the common feature appeared to be bite marks upon their necks. Shit. Melissa Aconite ran towards her room. She needed supplies.  
  
***  
  
The Death Eaters had reached the outer walls. Having found that the main doors had been strengthened against intruders, and lacking anyone to let them in as Filch had invited in Spike, they were forced to risk being spotted by taking to the air and landing in the courtyard. From there, it was relatively easy to blast the hinges from the door to the castle proper, and to step in once the dust had cleared from where the door fell. They began creeping along the corridors, wands ready if they should need to silence any witnesses.  
  
***  
  
Professor Mundanus had found the broom cupboard where the bodies were hidden within a fairly short period of time. A simple spell unlocked the door, and his senses recoiled at the faint, unpleasant, but familiar smell of death. He dragged out the bodies of Filch and Wormtail, and laid them out side by side on the floor. He pointed his wand at the cadavers.  
  
'Pyro Amenrir!' he shouted. Flame burst from his wand, and engulfed the bodies, beginning to blacken them, and bringing a strong smell to his nostrils, that reminded him of a barbecue he had once attended before becoming a Death Eater.  
  
Standing before the burning bodies, with wand outstretched, was how the ten Death Eaters found him as they marched from around the corner. They stopped in fairly evident shock. The leader looked quickly from Wormtail's blazing corpse to professor Mundanus, who was too surprised to do anything but stutter.  
  
'Traitor!' shrieked the leader of the Death Eaters. That was all the cue needed for the other Death Eaters. In almost united action, each flung out their wand arms, and shouted 'Avada Kedavra!'  
  
Professor Mundanus' body was thrown backwards several feet, until it impacted upon a stone wall with a sickening thud. The body slumped down, looking almost as if he had sat against the wall and fallen asleep. Smoke drifted faintly from Mundanus' skin.  
  
There was silence, and the leader looked appraisingly around his surroundings.  
  
'To the dining hall,' said the leader. 'Let us hope that the rest of tonight goes according to plan, unlike this traitor.'  
  
But somehow, the leader had a nasty feeling that it was going to get worse than this. 


	5. Chapter 5

Can I Come In?  
  
1 Part Five  
  
There are a lot of things going on at once. Observe:  
  
Professor Dumbledore trapped in his room, leaning back in a chair. Fawkes, his phoenix, is singing softly for him. The door to his room is guarded by a gargoyle that fills the archway once occupied by his door. It is made of obsidian, and darkly reflects the poorly lit hall it occupies. It has no hind legs, but appears to grow out of the wall. Its muscled arms rest on the floor, and its clawed fingers tap the stones endlessly.  
  
Wormtail and Albus Filch. Their bodies burn side by side. The lifeless body of Professor Mundanus, A Death Eater in life, lies not very far from them.  
  
Harry Potter's Aunt Petunia. Now a vampire, she forces a Slytherin prefect named Trevor Bastarrus to lead her to the Gryffindor dormitories.  
  
Spike and Drusilla walking towards the library of Hogwarts.  
  
Professor Aconite, rummaging through the desk in her room, filling a bag with knives, crosses, axes, a sword, a crossbow, her wand, and a few vials of holy water.  
  
A group of ten Death Eaters moving towards the dining hall. The plan they intended to follow has already had one minor upset, but still they must go forwards, or risk the severest displeasure of their lord.  
  
The rightful inhabitants of Hogwarts, students and teachers, sleeping restfully (Madame Trelawney having dozed off with the aid of marijuana- spiked tea).  
  
A former Hogwarts Express train driver leading a pack of ten vampires. With no instructions from Spike, Tim sends the vampires in different directions in an attempt to bring as much death and destruction as possible. After all, confusion is vital to the desires of the vampires, even if it is not entirely necessary for what Voldemort desires.  
  
Mayhem is almost certainly guaranteed.  
  
***  
  
This is one of the muggles that were made into vampires but an hour ago. This one is female, and dressed in fairly casual clothing, which of course makes her stick out like a sore thumb in Hogwarts castle. Well, that and the yellow eyes, pointy teeth, and so forth. It stalks the dim corridors of the castle, in search of the next meal. She has drunk some blood, that of children, but it doesn't satisfy her. Sniffing the scent of an adult female, she follows the smell to a door. Without reading the name on the door, which would certainly mean nothing to her in any case, she smashes through the old wood, and prepares to pounce on the rather startled woman. Who, the vampire realises too late, doesn't look unprepared.  
  
Professor Aconite had stripped off her robes, which were an impediment to movement, and was dressed rather more like a muggle now. She took a quick three steps forward, and delivered a high kick into the vampire's face. As the vampire fell down, Melissa quickly regained her balance, and drew a wooden stake from her belt. The vampire was just starting to pick itself up when the stake rammed down into its' heart. There was an explosion of dust, and Melissa Aconite covered her face to ward off a serious coughing fit.  
  
'Well,' she said, picking up her bag of weapons, and carrying it over one shoulder, 'some people really do need to learn how to knock.'  
  
She stepped lightly over the shattered remains of her door, and set off to look for more vampires.  
  
***  
  
Professor McGonagall was woken from her sleep by movements through the corridor. Bloody children, don't they ever bother to follow school rules? She thought rather irritably. She swung her legs from out of her bed, and grabbed a dressing robe before standing up. She robed herself quickly, and reached for her wand. 'Lumos!' she whispered urgently.  
  
She stepped gingerly towards the door, opened it quietly, and peered around the corner. And saw ten figures, dressed in robes of black, walking away from her, and going around the corner. Death Eaters.  
  
She closed the door quietly, locked it firmly, and sat down on her bed, wondering what to do.  
  
She reached for a bottle of brandy.  
  
***  
  
Petunia and the prefect came to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.  
  
'Are you…err…gonna let me go now?' Trevor asked nervously.  
  
'Of course not, you silly little boy!' said Petunia with mock horror while laughing, and punched him. He fell down to the ground unconscious. She might have liked to kill him, but he might be needed later. The Fat Lady opened her eyes sleepily, and asked wearily, 'password?'  
  
The Fat Lady's face registered shock as Petunia's face became a thing of bestial rage.  
  
Harry Potter, and indeed every Gryffindor, woke in a start as a huge crashing boom resounded throughout the dormitory. They rushed out in the seating area, where the fire place was lit with a fire to give warmth in winter. The fire illuminate the sight of the door, on which the Fat Lady's portrait was mounted, lying in a mildly smashed heap. The portrait lay on top of the splinters.  
  
'Ouch,' said the Fat Lady. But no-one was listening. They were too busy staring at the figure whose features were barely lit by the fire. They were monstrous, and the pupils who crowded the balcony outside the sleeping areas were too afraid to step down the stairs towards the figure.  
  
The monster stepped through the doorway, and was more fully illuminated by the blazing fire.  
  
'Aunt Petunia?' asked Harry, absolutely baffled.  
  
Petunia grinned, showing all of her teeth. The pupils shrank back, and a few went running back to the dormitories, hoping for refuge.  
  
'Aren't you glad to see your dear old aunty?' Petunia enquired.  
  
***  
  
Professor Snape was walking the cold corridors in a foul mood. There wasn't a lot of change there, but it seems worth noting. He drew his black robes around himself to keep out the cold, and marched on. He decided to check the library again. Harry Potter was the biggest nuisance in the whole school. As bad as his father. Snape scowled. Made more work for everyone else, and was praised because he was lucky. No-one appreciated a hard worker, although for reasons of morale, no-one thought it was wise to tell the pupils in Hufflepuff, who would only get depressed.  
  
As he turned around the corner, Spike and Drusilla spotted him.  
  
'Oi! You there,' Spike yelled. Snape snapped out of his thoughts and looked suspiciously at the strangers. They were almost certainly not meant to be there, but didn't Mundanus have muggles in the castle? If Mundanus had been careless, Snape gloated, he would see to it personally that Dumbledore knew at once. Besides, Snape was not as forgiving as Dumbledore, and he did not believe that Mundanus was really a reformed Death Eater.  
  
'Yes?' he asked icily. Being greeted by Snape was enough to make most people cower in fear. Spike, on the other hand, didn't appear bothered.  
  
'Know which way the library is mate?' Spike asked.  
  
Snape was about to pour every last acidic sarcastic comment he could muster upon them, when Drusilla's eyes caught him. They were deadly eyes, and Snape looked away quickly. On the whole, he thought it best to play along for now.  
  
'Just along there, and take the third left,' he said in a dry voice.  
  
'Cheers,' said Spike, as he and Drusilla walked past. Spike spun on his heel after a few steps, and said, 'one last thing.'  
  
Snape looked around with a withering look in his eye. 'What would that be then?'  
  
'You don't bloody half look like Alan Rickman.' And then Spike and Drusilla were gone.  
  
Snape rolled his eyes. 'It has been mentioned,' he muttered.  
  
***  
  
The Death Eaters paused at an intersection met by five branching corridors.  
  
'Are you sure this is the right way?' asked a witch.  
  
The leader paused. 'You know, I'm sure they couldn't have changed it too much since we were students here.'  
  
One whispered to another: 'I wonder which century that was for him?'  
  
'I heard that,' muttered the leader.  
  
There was a lengthy pause.  
  
'Perhaps we should split up at this point,' the leader added.  
  
Somewhere a scream sounded distantly. The Death Eaters exchanged nervous looks.  
  
'Of course,' added the leader nonchalantly, 'we could remain in a group.'  
  
***  
  
The scream had come from Professor Sprout. She had just spilled coffee all over the homework she was supposed to be marking. It was extraordinarily frustrating when added to all of the other pressures involved in day to day administration and teaching. It wasn't related to the present crisis, but there you go.  
  
Professor Sprout was struck by a moment of indecision. Then she decided to place Memory Charms on the class so that they forgot they had ever been given the homework.  
  
***  
  
Marie Neardrop tried rattling the door knob again, in a very pointless manner. She was still locked in the blasted toilets. She sighed and sat back down.  
  
Myrtle floated out of her cubicle. 'How about a game of 'I spy'?'  
  
Marie groaned in pain.  
  
***  
  
The vampire had seen the silvery ladder dangling from the trapdoor a minute previously, and was still transfixed by it. Eventually he got a grip upon himself, and climbed it into the musky room of Madame Trelawney, filled with the pungent (actually, it didn't smell too bad) smell of incense (the vampire wrestled with uncertainty. Incense, it felt sure, wasn't meant to smell in this manner). Madame Trelawney was slumped over her desk, a cup of tea by her side, seemingly untouched. It was full, almost to the brim.  
  
The vampire sipped the tea, out of curiosity. If there was poison in it, it would taste bad, but not kill him. And it would warn him not to drink the blood of the unconscious form. It didn't taste too bad.  
  
He was startled when Madame Trelawney spluttered in her sleep, and began to rouse from her dreams. He dropped the tea cup, which miraculously didn't shatter, even though it hit the ground upside down.  
  
Madame Trelawney looked up wearily at the vampire, whose face had become something to dread. She muttered something, waved her wand, and went back to sleep.  
  
The vampire laughed loudly. 'Is that the best you can do silly old woman-' He was interrupted by a worrying sound. He turned around slowly, and realised where the growling was coming from. Fifteen pouffes, which ordinarily did nothing more offensive than occasionally lose a bit of stuffing, were advancing upon him in an extremely menacing manner.  
  
Two nearby vampires heard his screams, and headed towards his direction, although it would be too late for him by the time they arrived.  
  
Meanwhile, the upended tea cup began to steadily pour out drugged tea.  
  
***  
  
Hearing the sound of a fight, Melissa hurried after the noise, fearing the worst. She followed the noise to the area where Madame Trelawney's classroom could be found. Melissa had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach, and walked into the corridor where she could be found, dreading the worst. And didn't quite find what she'd been expecting. It was too dark to tell what it was, but there was a liquid dripping out of the trapdoor in the ceiling where Madame Trelawney resided. Except it didn't smell remotely like blood. A good start. It smelt like…tea? And something else? Odd. Not quite as odd as what was happening to the two vampires she could see, trying to disengage themselves from the rope ladder.  
  
They had arrived, hearing the sound of a comrade in trouble. What they had found was a small pile of ashes, presumably his, and a lot of huddled growling shapes. When it had turned out that the growling things were furniture, their situation hadn't improved much.  
  
And so Melissa watched with astonishment as the two vampires were beaten to death by the pouffes. She sometimes wondered how many people left this school without the need for therapy. She stopped wondering idly when the pouffes scented her, and began to bounce her way. Fearing for her life, and the most embarrassing end in history, Melissa screamed out the first spell that came to mind.  
  
In retrospect, perhaps it wasn't the ideal choice.  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore didn't need to listen too hard to hear the explosion.  
  
'Oh dear,' he muttered absent mindedly, 'I do hope that wasn't too expensive.'  
  
***  
  
'What the hell was that?' asked one of the Death Eaters.  
  
The leader of the group was slumped against the wall. He was beginning to suspect that they were either under the influence of magic, or just really bad at finding directions. Either way, things were not what he had hoped for. He sighed.  
  
'Well, we're here, it's over there,' he said, waving an arm in the general direction, 'why don't we try going this way?' he finished, pointing in the other direction.  
  
'Shouldn't we find out what the explosion was?' asked another Death Eater.  
  
'Volunteers for heading towards the source of the explosion?' asked the leader.  
  
There was an uneasy silence.  
  
***  
  
'Well?' asked Petunia, 'are you going to come down, nephew, or am I going to have to start killing all of your little friends?'  
  
The Gryffindor students shrank back somewhat.  
  
'Ok,' said Harry, trying to look braver than he felt, 'but don't hurt them, ok?'  
  
'There's a good boy,' said Petunia. 'Come on now, we haven't got all night.'  
  
Hermione whispered something to Ron. He nodded, and whispered to the Gryffindors, but Petunia heard.  
  
Petunia turned around, one hand enclosed on Harry's neck, and said: 'If you little brats try anything-'  
  
Petunia didn't have time to tell them what she'd do, the Gryffindors as one shouted, 'Expelliarmus!'  
  
Petunia was thrown backwards, and hit the wall with a painful 'thud.'  
  
'Harry!' shouted Ron, 'stake her with something! Something pointy and wooden!'  
  
'Like a wooden stake?' asked Hermione sarcastically, while Harry staked Petunia with his wand. It was the closest thing he had to hand. Petunia's face took on an expression of helpless rage, and she exploded into fine ash. Harry looked slightly shell-shocked.  
  
'Well,' said Hermione in a smug voice, 'I think it was rather stupid of a vampire to try anything in a building full of people carrying pointed wooden wands! Honestly.' She looked at the rest of the house as if this should be evident to all.  
  
The others gave her the correct look of exasperation, which always rewards those who complain about the quality of villains.  
  
***  
  
Spike was rifling through the library shelves. Books piled up on the floor, discarded like losing tickets to a grand prize. Drusilla had been swaying from side to side by one of the reading desks, but she suddenly froze, as if she were a statue made of ice and evil.  
  
'All our pretty children are dying!' she said in a barely audible whisper. She sounded horror struck.  
  
Spike scowled. 'Good. That means we'll have plenty of time.'  
  
He threw his hands up in the air. 'Bloody hell! Where is the sodding book?'  
  
A trembling voice called out, that of an old woman. 'Who goes there?' came the call.  
  
Madame Pince walked into Spike's field of vision, and stood very still.  
  
'Ah,' said Spike, smiling wolfishly, 'I wanted to take out a little book. I don't suppose you could help me with that?'  
  
Madame Pince turned and displayed a surprising show of speed for a woman her age. She disappeared somewhere into the maze of book shelves.  
  
Spike sighed and went back to the business of hunting out his prize. 'Bloody librarians,' he muttered, 'nothing but trouble.'  
  
***  
  
Snape was hurriedly walking towards Dumbledore's office. Sometimes he thought the school would be better off without him, but with vampires in the school, and someone, goodnss knows who, setting off explosions, it might be time to ask for advice. As he passed by the dining hall, two vampires set upon him.  
  
With the barest change in his expression, he rammed his wand into the heart of one, even as he began to pronounce the words of a curse. As the staked vampire exploded into dust, the other vampire broke his spell casting with a well thrown punch to the jaw. Snape span around slightly, and threw himself to the ground to avoid another swing. The vampire swiftly kicked him in the ribs, which left Snape wheezing.  
  
The vampire picked up Snape's wand and threw it very far away. He then grabbed Snape by the shoulders, and lifted him up so that his feet dangled an inch off the ground. He growled savagely, and opened his mouth to reveal glittering teeth. The vampire's mouth lunged forwards, and Snape felt the teeth scratch his neck as-  
  
-as a large rock impacted on the back of the vampire's head.  
  
The vampire dropped Snape, who landed heavily on the floor. Melissa appeared from the darkness as the vampire rushed towards her. She jumped into the air, straight upwards, and lashed out with a sharp kick to the vampire's head. The vampire staggered back two steps, and then dived for Melissa as she recovered her balance. Melissa fell back with the vampire on top of her, struggling to prevent it from biting her neck. She broke it's hold by kneeing the monster in the bollocks, and then delivered a sharp chop to it's neck. It choked slightly, and she pushed the vampire from her, and clambered to her feet. The vampire began to do the same, but Melissa kicked it in the head again. The vampire span as it fell, landing face down, and Melissa retrieved a stake from her belt. The vampire rolled to one side as the stake came down, splintering on the hard stone floor. The fight might have continued indefinitely like this if Snape hadn't then thrown a small bottle at the staggering vampire, which immediately consumed it with green flames.  
  
'Wow,' said Melissa as the vampire crumbled into nothingness. 'Don't you ever worry about carrying that stuff on you?'  
  
'As a rule,' Snape began dryly, 'I never worry too much about highly distilled holy water.'  
  
Melissa muttered under her breath, 'that's a surprise to me.'  
  
'I heard that,' said Snape.  
  
'Where to now?' asked Melissa, ignoring him.  
  
'I was going to fetch Professor Dumbledore,' said Snape, in a tone that suggested Melissa should let others do the hard work, and that moreover she would be best served by withdrawing herself from his gaze forever more.  
  
'An excellent plan,' she replied breezily, making a mental note to let Snape get a few more bruises if the opportunity arose.  
  
They briskly walked onwards.  
  
Madame Trelawney awoke once more, feeling much more clear headed. Her inner eye told her that something was badly wrong, and if her inner eye was actually functioning as she claimed it did, it was probably a sign of dire danger. She cast a small hex to make herself seem not worth noticing, and she took a secret passage to the maze of hidden networks that made up Hogwarts. Best get out of there she reasoned.  
  
She thought the floor was wet, but took no notice, thinking it may have been better not to know. In a sense she was right. The floor was now half a centimetre deep in tea.  
  
Meanwhile, the upended cup continued to pour forth.  
  
Harry was shocked, but recovering. He looked urgently up at Hermione and Ron.  
  
'We've got to tell Dumbledore!' he said.  
  
'Tell him what?' asked Hermione, ' "Dumbledore, come quick, the villains are morons!" something like that?'  
  
'I think I'd have noticed if my aunty had always been a vampire. Maybe. Anyway, that means someone made her a vampire, right? Someone who knew where Hogwarts is? Which means-'  
  
'We're all in danger!' said Ron hoarsely.  
  
'We don't have a moment to lose!' said Hermione urgently, as if she had never doubted the seriousness of the situation.  
  
Not as far away as some would imagine, a pale figure in a robe of deepest black looked at a clock with satisfaction.  
  
'Aaaaah,' it said, 'soon I shall be back in that wretched school, and I shall destroy the child that has been such an annoyance.'  
  
Lord Voldemort hissed with pleasure. 


	6. Chapter 6

Can I Come In?  
  
1 Chapter Six  
  
Madam Pince was running between impossibly tall bookcases. Something fiendish was chasing her, baying for blood. All she'd done was arrive in the library to check upon an alarm-ward that had been triggered, and then…  
  
'Here puss-puss,' came the voice of Drusilla, muffled by the bookcases that mercifully obscured Madam Pince from her view.  
  
Madam Pince whimpered, and continued to move as urgently and quietly as possible. She felt rather like one of those rats that muggles would insist upon putting in mazes. She felt close to breaking point. As has already been observed, when wizards and witches are put in stressful situations, the solutions they come up with tend to be…interesting. (On the other side of the school, the ashes of fifteen carnivorous pouffes are stirred gently by the wind)  
  
Elsewhere in the library, Spike was becoming more and more frustrated. It was taking some effort not to start ripping the library apart. Although therapeutic no doubt, it would make the task much harder. And he only had half an hour or so before he was supposed to allow the bloody wizard into the school. Spike knew he had some beef with a little kiddy wink, but he didn't know what it was that was so bad as to make him attempt to deal with Spike. He'd killed two bloody Slayers for God's (pardon his French) sake.  
  
'You know,' mused Spike to himself, 'having a dastardly plan to turn everyone into ready made meals is so much easier when the librarians bother to make a sodding index!' This was shouted to the uncaring world at large. The parts of it that weren't currently sizzling nicely.  
  
Drusilla wasn't too far behind Madam Pince, but was making a concerted effort to let her believe she had escaped. She peered around a corner, making a soft purring noise. Madam Pince had walked right into a cul-de- sac, which meant the little game was over.  
  
When Drusilla glided around the corner, Madam Pince felt the bottom drop out of her world. She was snared by the monstrous innocence in Drusilla's eyes. Drusilla's hand shot out at Madam Pince, and lifted her up with all the effort of turning the page of a book.  
  
'Are you just a piece of me I haven't met yet?' wondered Drusilla, baring her fangs.  
  
Madam Pince was suitably confused. Struggling wildly, she grasped a heavy tome from a shelf, and hurled it at Drusilla's head. Drusilla collapsed soundlessly, and Madam Pince dropped to the floor. She coughed quietly, and started to look for an exit. Unlike some of the other members of staff, she didn't have quite the right combination of dramatic flare and utter stupidity needed to hang around uttering something witty.  
  
***  
  
The Death Eaters were thoroughly lost. They had been lost an hour earlier, and they were still lost now. They'd temporarily given up on trying to find the dining hall, and were sitting down for a bit of peace and quiet. No more explosions had followed the first, which was generally considered a good thing. Violence and explosions were appreciated by the Death Eaters only so long as they were the source.  
  
This corridor in particular was fortunate enough as to be lined with the kind of cosy arm chair that people in waiting rooms pray for. The leader of the group had naturally done his best to pick the most comfy looking chair, if only to cling to some sense of order in what was rapidly becoming a pointless endeavour. Even Voldemort's wrath didn't scare the Death Eaters at this stage, because they privately suspected that he'd be just as lost in this situation.  
  
***  
  
Professor McGonagall sighed with some small sense of satisfaction. She was slightly merry, having needed an artificial boost to her courage, but she had managed to pull off the spell without the slightest hitch. If they all survived, she should surely get some sort of award for this…enchanting an entire building within so short a space of time was no mean feat. She chastised herself. The reward wasn't the point when there were Death Eaters about. Still…it would be nice to be appreciated.  
  
She formed a mental list. Death Eaters: taken care of for now. Next: Dumbledore?  
  
She quickly gathered the few items she thought she would need, and hurried out through the door.  
  
***  
  
Drusilla slowly came to, seething with rage. Then a mood took over her, and she felt happy. She was standing in a meadow, full of happy people and…no, that wasn't right was it? She was here with Spike, and she wanted to kill someone very much. She looked around her, and her eyes settled on the book that the damned librarian had hit her with. Her eyes widened, shone brightly, and she smiled broadly with boundless joy.  
  
'Spike!' she called out, 'I've been struck with your birthday present!'  
  
***  
  
'Nosferatu Malficius Thaumum?' said Spike a few minutes later, after much silence. 'Why couldn't the stupid wanker just call it "The Master's big book of nastiness"? Oh well. He's dead, I'm not. Come on, Dru. I'm in the mood to celebrate.'  
  
***  
  
Someone not in the mood to celebrate was Marie Neardrop. She was now privately wondering if it was possible to kill a ghost, because Moaning Myrtle certainly had it coming. Well…she wasn't going to stay in here all night. She aimed her wand at the door to the outside corridor. This might get her expelled, but at least she wouldn't die in a toilet cubicle.  
  
***  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione slowly backed away. Unfortunately for them, in their haste to reach Dumbledore they had encountered one of the vampires that had been made my Spike and Drusilla. The vampire grinned nastily as it advanced slowly. It was really enjoying this. They were pressed up against a wall, and the vampire was just about level with the girl's toilets. It crouched, ready to spring, and-  
  
There was a loud bang, a bright flash of green, and the door flew off its hinges, crashing into the vampire. This happened with such force that the vampire was actually crushed against the opposite wall. The vampire instantly became so much loose dust.  
  
Smoke and dust billowed outwards from the explosion. Harry and his friends coughed heavily, and a small figure emerged from the cloud.  
  
'I didn't hurt anyone did I?' asked Marie nervously.  
  
***  
  
The Death Eaters carried on drinking tea nonchalantly.  
  
One said, 'Did anyone else hear that?'  
  
'Yes,' came the resounding chorus.  
  
'Oh. Just checking.'  
  
***  
  
Madame Trelawney looked around in puzzlement. Blasted secret passages. She could have told anyone that something like this would happen. It was practically her job description. The dark dank corridors stretched out in every direction. She wondered which way she should go. It probably didn't matter too much in the long run. She hobbled along, until she came across a rather frightened Madam Pince.  
  
***  
  
Tim was sticking close to the other three vampires. He had heard explosions coming from across the castle, and suspected that this meant that some of the others were dying. He'd only been a vampire for a few nights, and he wasn't about to end his life here.  
  
They'd come across Trevor, the Slytherin prefect a few minutes ago. It sounded a lot like Petunia had gotten annoyed with him and then knocked him out. Unfortunately, she hadn't retrieved Trevor after getting the boy, which probably meant she'd died at some point.  
  
Of course, they'd kept Trevor around. They might need a snack later.  
  
***  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and now indeed Marie, were somewhat surprised when they entered the corridor in which Dumbledore's office resided. Had once resided possibly, because where the door usually was, there was instead the front half of a massive black gargoyle growing out of the wall. It's 'skin' was so polished that they could see their own faces in it.  
  
'What the-' began Ron, but was interrupted.  
  
'None may pass,' intoned the gargoyle, 'save Mundanus.'  
  
'Why?' asked Marie.  
  
The gargoyle looked puzzled for a second. 'No-one has ever actually asked me that before. You'd have thought someone would wouldn't you?'  
  
'She just did,' pointed out Hermione, 'and you haven't answered the question. Which is very rude.' Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
'Very well,' uttered the gargoyle, 'I may not let you pass because-'  
  
'What are you children doing up at this hour?' came the Scottish accent of Professor McGonagall, 'and with all this dreadful business going on too! And don't you try to tell me you haven't noticed, because I wasn't born yest- Oh. What's that gargoyle doing there?'  
  
'I am here to prevent passage,' said the gargoyle. It's voice was booming rather less threateningly now.  
  
'Whatever are you doing that for?' asked McGonagall.  
  
'I was just getting to that,' said the gargoyle wearily.  
  
'Well, out with it!' said Professor McGonagall. The children were trying to suppress mild sniggers.  
  
'Professor McGonagall! And pupils?' queried Professor Aconite in a puzzled voice as she and Professor Snape rounded the corner.  
  
The gargoyle looked on the point of crying. To its left, Harry and the other children were standing looking confused, while on the left the three professors were now animatedly discussing the nights events.  
  
'Death Eaters!?' gasped Harry and Ron as Professor McGonagall came to her share of the story.  
  
'I'm afraid so,' said McGonagall, 'but I've taken care of them for now.'  
  
'Pardon me-' began the gargoyle.  
  
'Well what do they want?' asked Aconite, 'they must be out of their minds if they're working with vampires! You can't trust the little bu- er, devils as far as you can throw them!'  
  
'I think they want something in the castle,' said Harry, 'I don't know why, but they made my aunt into a vampire. Haven't seen my uncle though.'  
  
'Then he's probably dead,' said Melissa Aconite carelessly, 'and they probably want you. The Death Eaters have an obvious grudge against you, and the vampires involved your mortal family. We really need Dumbledore's help if we have Death Eaters as well as vampires running around. What's this gargoyle doing here?'  
  
'Not a great deal,' muttered the gargoyle.  
  
'Dark magic. Of course. Who put you here?' demanded Snape, 'I have potions that can extract the truth if you make it necessary,' he finished with a snarl.  
  
The gargoyle felt that it was time to resume its task of menacing people. 'Your mere potions and magician's charms will avail you naught. I am set here by your professor, Mundanus, and I shall not move ere he bid it,' he boomed.  
  
'Mundanus?' said McGonagall, in a highly puzzled tone, 'why on Earth did he do that?'  
  
The gargoyle took a different tone with Minerva McGonagall, 'why else, O lady? He is a Death Eater of course!'  
  
There was silence as the teachers tried to swallow the shock. They had known Mundanus for a long time, and he had always been so very unassuming. Harry and his friends were less shocked. This was the third teacher at Hogwarts who had turned out to be a servant of Voldemort.  
  
Aconite paused a while before asking, 'And how may we make you move? Mundanus will surely not allow you to leave.'  
  
'He shall surely not,' mocked the gargoyle, 'for he is dead. I can sense it in my stones.'  
  
'I see,' hissed Aconite.  
  
'And I shall not willingly leave,' said the gargoyle, 'for it is my joy to see humans suffer.' It appeared to have recovered its self esteem, now it was the centre of attention.  
  
Professor Aconite reached into the bag she carried. She retrieved several large hammers, and some lead pipes, and distributed them between her fellow professors, and even amongst the children present.  
  
'What are you doing that for?' asked the gargoyle nervously.  
  
'Have you ever heard of a Slayer?' asked Aconite in the cheeriest voice she had had that week.  
  
The gargoyle's face dropped like a concrete seagull. 'Oh shit,' it said.  
  
***  
  
The three vampires led by Tim came across the Death Eaters quite by accident. It is possible that vampires are not quite so affected by mortal magics such as the labyrinth charm laid upon the Death Eaters, but the why's and wherefore's of this situation may be hard to discern.  
  
The vampires were feeling slightly better for having drunk their fill from Trevor, the Slytherin prefect, but were still itching for a fight they could win.  
  
The Death Eaters paused in mid-sip of their tea.  
  
'Hello?' said one of the Death Eaters.  
  
'Aren't you guys supposed to meet us all in the hall?' asked Tim.  
  
'Err...we got lost. Do you know the way?'  
  
'Yes, and so should you. Follow us. We'll show those bloody hu- err, people what we can do.'  
  
And the Death Eaters trailed after the vampires, and were led out of the trap. The Death Eaters were never aware of the spell that had caught them, and decided not to mention it amongst themselves, feeling embarrassed at having got lost at the school they once attended.  
  
***  
  
The gargoyle had something of a head-ache, but wasn't looking much like rubble.  
  
'Are you quite finished?' it whined.  
  
'No,' said Melissa, and hit it over the head again with a sledge hammer. 'When are you going to move?'  
  
'I can't as such. I'm more or less glued into the brick work.'  
  
'Hmm…', mused Melissa, pondering what size of fireball might do the trick.  
  
'No!' said McGonagall urgently, guessing at what was going through Melissa's head, 'you could crisp Dumbledore in there!'  
  
'Oh. Yeah. Well, back to the hammers.'  
  
'No!' shouted the gargoyle this time. 'Not the bloody hammers! Don't you have anything more precise to work with?'  
  
Harry and Ron pointed their wands at the gargoyle. 'Expelliarmus!'  
  
The gargoyle flinched somewhat, but wasn't removed. It rolled its burning red eyes.  
  
'You aren't used to working with many tools are you?' asked the gargoyle sarcastically.  
  
'Well, I'm ok with the hammers if you are,' threatened Ron.  
  
'I know a small acid spell,' said Marie, after remaining quiet for some time. She was quite timid, and had been hoping that the others would see through the problem. 'A small application at the base should erode the contact point.'  
  
Hermione looked at Marie as if she had just spotted her long lost twin sister. 'Of course!' she shouted, 'then the rest of the growth would retract into the gargoyle!'  
  
'You know,' said Snape, 'I have always said Marie was the brightest Slytherin student.'  
  
'No you haven't!' pointed out McGonagall. Snape coughed.  
  
'Well, she is,' said Aconite, matter-of-factly, 'not least because all of the other Slytherin students are dead.'  
  
There was silence. 'Didn't I mention that?' asked Aconite, 'well, never mind.'  
  
***  
  
The Death Eaters and the vampires were at last in the dining hall. The Death Eaters were sitting down now at the Slytherin table, reminiscing about their school days. The vampires stood at the other side of the hall, having lost some of their respect for the supposedly fearsome sect of wizards and witches.  
  
Spike and Drusilla slammed the doors apart and walked in with a decidedly confident swagger. Well, less of a swagger, and more of a stalking kind of movement. Menace poured out from them. Spike carried a large sword in his right hand, and held a large book under his left arm.  
  
'We're ready to get moving. Where's the boy? And Petunia for that matter?' Spike asked.  
  
'Dunno,' said Tim dumbly.  
  
'Fine,' muttered Spike, as the Death Eaters whispered among themselves. The vampires weren't doing their part of the task…what now?  
  
'Voldie can go and get the bloody boy himself,' muttered Spike as he drew a large circle on the stony floor with chalk. Then he dropped a red jewel in the middle, that he had been carrying for several days in his leather jacket. The jewel glowed brightly, and there was a flash of light, and a dull roar of noise.  
  
The leader of the Death Eaters stood up. 'The wards!' he shouted joyfully, 'the wards against Apparation are gone! He can join us now!'  
  
The other Death Eaters laughed. The night was finally going right. They gathered in a large circle around the edge of the room. Spike and Drusilla edged back towards the door they had entered through, and Spike began to read aloud to himself from the book. Might as well do something constructive with the time, right? He was amazed at how simple this was, he thought to himself.  
  
***  
  
The gargoyle was now separated from the door now. As it had no legs, however, it was wobbling rather uncertainly against the wall opposite to the door.  
  
'Don't suppose you could give me legs?' the gargoyle asked Marie plaintively.  
  
'Don't think that's a good idea until you learn to be more sociable,' said Aconite. 'Wait there, we'll deal with you later.'  
  
McGonagall opened the door. 'Dumbledore?' she asked, 'we've come to get you out. There are-'  
  
'Thank you, Minerva, I know. Death Eaters, and vampires. I could hear you from inside. I must say that Marie has earned some points for Slytherin. Although it sounds like I may have to dissolve the house due to lack of members. That can be dealt with later. The wards are gone, so I must assume the worst. Still, I am free again, which is very good news. Fawkes was running out of songs, and he is most terrible at impersonating Shirley Bassey,' Dumbledore smiled slightly, and his eyes twinkled, 'now…let us find Madame Trewlawney. She can tell us, hopefully, where the Death Eaters are.'  
  
Dumbledore led the way into a series of secret passages.  
  
***  
  
The circle that Spike had drawn blazed with a fiery red light, and faded into nothingness. As the glare diminished, it became clear that where the circle had been, now there stood a robed figure. Dressed in the darkest of black robes, its hood was drawn up to obscure the face. From within the darkness of the hood blazed two red eyes.  
  
The figure surveyed the room. The Death Eaters cowered before his gaze, and prostrated themselves. Spike ignored the figure, and casually read to himself.  
  
Finally the robed figure looked upon the leader of the Death Eater group.  
  
'Where is the boy?' it demanded.  
  
No answer came.  
  
'Very well. I shall destroy this entire school if that is what it takes!'  
  
The Death Eaters cowered and apologised for their incompetence.  
  
'Never mind you craven wretches. Lord Voldemort has arrived at last!' 


	7. Chapter 7

Can I Come In?  
  
1 Chapter Seven  
  
Lord Voldemort set three of the Death Eaters to searching Hogwarts, and kept the rest, as well as the vampires, stationed around the large hall in which students of the school eat their meals. In the meantime he was turning his baleful gaze upon Spike, who had just stopped reading quietly to himself and Drusilla. Drusilla watched Voldemort intently, the way a cat may watch a particularly interesting mouse.  
  
'You have failed in your end of the deal,' said Voldemort coldly. 'You were to bring the boy here, and hold him fast. And I had thought you were supposedly one of the most infamous vampires still in existence. Explain yourself.'  
  
Spike looked unimpressed. 'Well, for one thing Voldie mate, I did my part bringing you here,' Spike took a pause to light a cigarette, and popped it into the corner of his mouth. 'Secondly, who says I'm not gonna get him here anyway? His dear old auntie hasn't reported back, so I think we'll be seeing sweet ickle Harry soon enough. Then you can paint him blue and hang him on a Christmas tree for all I care. Anyway, you haven't exactly kept up with the deal. I thought there was going to be a lot more death and mayhem. And when are you going to give me that artefact? Since the Ring of Amarra went walkies, I've had a bit of a hankering to see the light of day. Surprise people a little, you know?'  
  
Voldemort scowled. 'Since you have so singularly failed to do what was expected, no doubt mayhem shall follow as the un-surprised teachers and students come to deal with us. And you can have your precious sun-walking ring when I have had my revenge upon Harry Potter. If you perform properly, I might even allow you to serve under me when I conquer the rest of the miserable wizards.'  
  
'Oh, plan for world domination, eh? Haven't seen one of those around for, oh, must be a month or two now. You should visit Sunnydale sometime. You didn't mention no world domination though. I thought this was a simple brutal attack plan, not some grand scam. I'm not a minion. Look under minion in the dictionary, I aint there.'  
  
The air between Spike and Voldemort was practically humming with anger.  
  
***  
  
'Ah,' said Dumbledore, 'Madam Pince, Madame Trewlawney. Might I say you have picked a marvellous place to sit and drink tea?'  
  
Dumbledore had led the group of students and teachers into a large dark room, where they had found the librarian and the Divination teacher resting from earlier traumas. Harry noted with a grimace that the Mirror of Erised was leaning against a far wall. He looked in the opposite direction, not wanting to be caught in the old trap of seeing his parents there. That brought up a lot of painful memories that he tried to keep buried.  
  
Professor Aconite looked in the Mirror of Erised, looked at Dumbledore, and grinned. 'Hey,' she said, 'I guess I've finally beaten the old thing now. All I see is me with a bit less around the waist.'  
  
'Well done,' said Dumbledore, 'but you'd do well not to forget your truer desires. You have a heavy burden on your shoulders after all.'  
  
'I know, I know. Anyway, shouldn't we be finding out where the Death Eaters are?'  
  
'Oh,' came a silken voice, 'that won't be necessary.'  
  
The group looked around. Three Death Eaters had sneaked into the secret passages, and now held wands aimed at their heads.  
  
'You'll be coming with us,' added one unnecessarily.  
  
***  
  
Voldemort stood before the assembled group.  
  
'Ah,' he said, savouring the feel on his impending triumph. 'Dumbledore, and Harry. Two thorns in my side. How sweet it shall feel when I pluck them out and crush you beneath my feet!'  
  
'Ponce,' muttered Spike under his breath.  
  
'Spike?!?' exclaimed Aconite, 'Drusilla? How the hell did you get them to work for you?'  
  
Voldemort was distracted from his reverie. 'They work for me because I am powerful. Who are you to challenge me?'  
  
'Melissa Aconite. Well, Melissa Streale actually, couldn't use my real surname in case people knew who I was and leaked it. Rita Skeeter is a right bitch. You know how it is.'  
  
There was muttering amongst the room now. 'The Augor?' whispered some Death Eaters fearfully. Spike spoke loudly, however: 'The British Slayer?' he roared, 'now this job is looking up!'  
  
Voldemort looked sharply at Spike. 'I alone shall have the pleasure of deciding who dies. You have been quite an annoyance as it is. I am aware of how Wormtail died truly. Voldemort always knows the truth. Avada Kedavra!'  
  
Green light flared, and lashed out at Spike. Spike, however, remained standing. Voldemort looked on in shock. Spike stubbed his cigarette out on the floor. 'I'm already dead, mate. Just as well I didn't want your poxy ring. I already got what I want.'  
  
The other Death Eaters were reaching hurriedly for their wands. Harry Potter and Melissa Streale looked around for opportunities. None just yet.  
  
'Explain yourself,' demanded Voldemort, although some of the confidence was gone from his voice.  
  
Spike almost laughed. 'Oh, so it's time for everyone to explain what they were up to? Must make you feel like it's a bloody Agatha Christie moment. It's always the butler. Except here, where it is the vampire with a big sword and a big book, and let's look at this book for a moment shall we?'  
  
Melissa spotted the book. 'That's mine!' she shouted.  
  
'Not now. Finders keepers sweetheart. I've been looking for this little joy ever since the Master snuffed it in Sunnydale. The Watchers had taken it, and I had bugger all luck finding it until Melissa here asked the Watchers to send it to her. A friendly chap in Harry's home town, who had ties in the mailing services, let me know. Shame he's dead now, didn't seem much point in keeping him around. Not very tasty mind. Me and Dru take a little job from Voldie, who's asking around for someone to take on Hogwarts. It was damn hard enough getting here as it was. We make a few vampires to distract everyone else while we get what we want.'  
  
'And what do you want the book for?' asked Voldemort impatiently.  
  
'Oh, some very nifty spells. You know, day to night and so on. But mostly it's for Dru here. Melissa should know about Dru's little…um…problem…'  
  
'She's mad,' said Melissa, not liking where this was going.  
  
'As a hatter,' added Spike. 'Thanks to good old Angelus. I've been looking after her for a long time now, I got her good and strong after the incident in Europe, and now I'm finally undoing what that bastard did. Or rather, I've already done it. Not a very complex ritual, I just had to read a few words out…'  
  
'And I feel much better,' purred Drusilla.  
  
Voldemort jerked his wand towards Drusilla. 'Infernus!'  
  
Fire leaped from Voldemort's wand, towards Drusilla. Flames cascaded around her as she screamed. Then the flames suddenly flickered out.  
  
'That spell works on even vampires!' shouted Voldemort, 'I have used it a hundred times on those who would not serve.'  
  
Drusilla casually examined her hands, checking her nails. She smiled suddenly, and it was hard to tell if the old madness was truly gone.  
  
'Oh dear,' she said mockingly, 'the poor little wizard hasn't met an old and powerful vampire. Do you know any of my other powers? I can tell what you're thinking. Isn't that a delight?' Drusilla giggled slightly.  
  
'Kill them all!' shouted Voldemort.  
  
'What?' asked Spike, genuinely puzzled, 'don't you know you're supposed to explain your plan in critical detail to everyone before you- oh sod it!' Spike flipped his sword into the air, grabbed at the handle and swung it at the nearest Death Eater. What happened next to the particular Death Eater was not pretty.  
  
'Split up!' shouted Melissa, as the Death Eaters looked their way.  
  
The teachers ducked into the closest secret passageway [it should be noted that the original architect, when presented with the criteria 'one large castle, plenty of secret passage ways' had decided to save much money and planning time by petrifying a castle-shaped lump of Swiss cheese, and then applying many enlarging spells to it. Very few know this, although it would explain a certain amount about the philosophy behind the place], and bolted it shut behind them. By no accident this created a certain amount of fuss and noise, which meant no one was looking when Harry, Marie, Ron and Hermione took the rather more mundane method of running back out through the door they had been ushered through, stamping on the feet of the Death Eaters who flanked them.  
  
Melissa remained in the room, although the Death Eaters were currently less concerned with her than with the small number of extremely psychotic vampires. Melissa took advantage of this by punching the Death Eater to her left, and then spinning around to kick the other Death Eater soundly between the legs. The first went unconscious, but the second merely groaned in extreme pain. This was readily solved by picking up his head and slamming it against the floor.  
  
This left a situation of two old vampires; four new vampires, including Tim; Voldemort; Melissa; and seven Death Eaters. It wasn't looking in anyone's favour in particular, although certainly not Melissa's.  
  
'Fools!' shouted Voldemort, as he leveled his wand at Tim, 'get the children and that fool Dumbledore, and bring them back here while I deal with these miscreants!' He then shouted something, which threw a large bolt of fire towards Tim. Tim just about leapt out of the way, although it caught another vampire squarely in the chest, and turned him to ashes swiftly.  
  
Three Death Eaters blasted apart the covering to the secret passageway, and hurried after the teachers. The leader of the Death Eaters closed in on Melissa, even as three of the surviving Death Eaters leapt past her to get to the children. Melissa ditched her robes, now dressed fully as a Muggle, with the accompanying ease of movement. The Death Eater leader began the death curse, even as Melissa made her own preparations. The Death Eater would have no doubt blasted Melissa into a pile of ashes, if her preparations hadn't involved performing a black flip that kicked the Death Eater's wand into the air.  
  
In the meanwhile, Voldemort was facing off against Spike and Drusilla. Spike was occupying Voldemort's attention by flashing his sword in and out of the dark lord's vision, while Drusilla circled lazily around Voldemort, crooning an old song under her breath. Her demeanour did not seem to have changed much, merely her clarity.  
  
***  
  
'Ah, the library,' muttered Snape. 'Always the place I go when there's an emergency.'  
  
'Well,' said Madam Pince archly, 'that might explain your grades perhaps. I remember what my predecessor said about you! He said that you only came to the library to look at-'  
  
'Your predecessor had the intelligence of a pickled newt, and that insults some of my prized ingredients!'  
  
'Well, I could have told you all that we would end up in this mess,' said Madame Trewlawney smugly.  
  
'Do tell,' said McGonagall icily, 'I would have dearly liked to know this earlier. Perhaps you might like to tell us what the Lottery numbers are next week? No doubt that might defray the cleaning bill.'  
  
Madame Trewlawney scoffed and mumbled, and was about to reply when Dumbledore spoke.  
  
'Now, now, this is not the time to fight amongst ourselves. That can wait until we are less occupied with these troublesome intruders, who are no doubt following us now.'  
  
'Ah yes,' said Snape, 'an excellent point. A group levitation is in order perhaps?'  
  
'Good thinking,' said Dumbledore happily. 'Madam Pince, do you have any objection? This might cause some untidiness.'  
  
'Go ahead,' said Pince somewhat more casually than expected, 'I can't say I ever bothered to keep them in order.'  
  
The others stared at her, shocked by the admission.  
  
'Well for goodness sake,' she said, 'I'm one old woman managing a library that takes up an entire castle wing! What kind of god do you think I am?'  
  
There was a pause.  
  
'Well,' said Dumbledore slowly, 'since there is no…um…impediment, perhaps we should begin before our guests think that we would look good missing our heads.'  
  
The four teachers pointed wands at a bookcase, and brought it to hover above the passage way opening.  
  
'Now, shall we lower it to block entrance, or shall we-' began Madam Pince, but stopped when she saw the three dark-robed figures emerge cockily into the library. The dark-robed figures raised their wands, and green light glowed around the ends.  
  
It was at this point that McGonagall broke the spell's connection to the bookcase. The Death Eaters had approximately enough time to look up before they became substantially flatter.  
  
'So,' said Madame Trewlawney, with a quivering voice, 'how much do we need to defray the costs by?'  
  
***  
  
The three Death Eaters following the children felt happier with their lot, knowing that they were chasing fledgling wizards and witches, not the practised magic users of the teaching department. The fact that these kids ran fast didn't matter, they would catch up soon enough. Besides, they knew for a fact that the blind idiots were running towards Dumbledore's office, and the corridors didn't go very far past there.  
  
They rounded the corridor, and it should be no surprise that the first thing they noticed wasn't the children. It was the large half-gargoyle that was looming over them, and grinning maliciously.  
  
'Yuck,' said Hermione.  
  
***  
  
The leader of the Death Eater group looked very worried, when his wand was lying ten feet from him, whilst his leader fought against the vampires. Voldemort had meanwhile turned another of the muggle-vampires into ash, but still left himself outnumbered, even as Spike and Drusilla toyed with him.  
  
'Go for your wand,' said Melissa, 'you can have a second chance.'  
  
The Death Eater leapt for the wand, only to fall unconscious as Melissa quickly threw a fist into the side of his head.  
  
'Bloody moron,' muttered Melissa, 'like I'd give the twat his wand back.'  
  
***  
  
'About time we finished this, eh?' said Spike, at the other side of the room.  
  
Drusilla just smiled, and took a few quick steps, causing Voldemort to whirl on her. This was the cue for Tim and the remaining muggle-vampire to leap at Voldemort. Voldemort sent a blaze of fire at the muggle-vampire, which crisped it immediately, before Tim bowled Voldemort to the floor. Tim laughed in triumph, but froze halfway through his laugh. There was Voldemort's wand, sticking into his chest. It hurt. Then he realised that he hadn't turned to dust yet, although this kept him busy thinking, as Voldemort removed his wand, and said a word that threw Tim halfway across the room.  
  
Melissa joined the fray at this point. Vampires, and Voldemort. She wasn't entirely sure who she was supposed to kill first, so she chose randomly. She waved her wand, and conjured up a gleaming silver sword, which fell softly into her hand.  
  
Spike saw this, and shouted, 'Dru, take care of the man in a dress, I'm going to add to my total of dead Slayers. Who'll laugh when they hear I've killed another one?'  
  
Drusilla laughed, 'go on then my love, kill another little pretty, this one can be enough for me to sing myself to sleep with.'  
  
Interesting definition of 'sane' thought Melissa. Then she swung up her sword to parry a blow from Spike. He drew close to her, keeping her sword held up.  
  
'You are going to make this interesting, I hope? Nothing worse then a boring kill,' Spike growled. His face furrowed, and became the bat-like visage of the vampire's true face.  
  
'Me be interesting,' shot back Melissa accusingly, 'do you have any idea how stale it gets when the twentieth vampire says something casually threatening while they go all "grrr!!!" on you?'  
  
Spike paused. 'Actually, you got a point there,' he conceded.  
  
Melissa skipped back, span in a rapid circle, and swung her sword at Spike's unprotected side. Spike quickly swung his sword in a 180º arc behind him, catching Melissa's swing, and then twisted his stance to get a more comfortable position. With the momentum gained from the twist, he thrust his sword and forced Melissa to back away again.  
  
***  
  
Voldemort, in the meantime, was keeping Drusilla at a distance by causing short bursts of flame to emit from his wand. Although she seemed somehow able to dissipate his spell, she was forced to draw back by sheer instinct when short bursts occurred. Her face was now feral and vicious, although she still managed to maintain a calm image of serenity. Tim struggled up from where he had landed, and ran from the room.  
  
'Such cowardly vampires you have made!' laughed Voldemort, 'and now you shall die!' and with that he conjured up a mass of swirling blades that began to sweep at Drusilla, and forming a wall between her and Voldemort. Barely an inch seemed to exist between blades, and they began to advance upon her.  
  
***  
  
Spike and Melissa were now giving up on slow measured sweeps of their blades. Now the swords clashed around like a savage ballet dance. First Spike would swing over head, and Melissa would sweep her sword around to block it, and then her own blade would suddenly dart below Spike's guard, forcing him to withdraw his sword to block the attack. They whirled around each other, their arms pin-wheeling in order to keep up, and to try to find an opening.  
  
Spike saw such an opening, and lunged. Melissa pulled her sword up to block, but it was too late to prevent the blow. She was barely luck to avoid being decapitated, but a cut appeared on her cheek, which began to freely bleed.  
  
'First blood,' laughed Spike. 'That's a start at least.'  
  
Melissa responded with a slash to Spike's own cheek. The cut disappeared instantly, not bleeding for a second.  
  
'I think this isn't going to hold my interest for long,' said Spike sadly.  
  
***  
  
Drusilla backed slowly away from the advancing blades, her face showing mortal fear. Voldemort laughed softly in satisfaction. Then Drusilla stopped walking backwards, and smiled slyly. Voldemort stopped laughing, and began to cast a new spell.  
  
'Too slow,' laughed Drusilla, in an exultant tone. She became a blur as she pirouetted and span, dancing on one foot at a time, skipping amongst the blades, and emerging unscathed upon the other side, in less time then it would have taken a mortal man to draw a breath. Voldemort did not have time to finish his spell, as Drusilla gripped his throat savagely, and lifted him far above the ground, showing a strength that was unexpected in what looked like a young and slightly built woman.  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore was running as fast as he could at his age, hurrying through the secret passage ways. McGonagall and Snape followed him.  
  
'Don't you think our little 'professor' can take care of herself?' asked Snape sarcastically.  
  
'I think she could ordinarily,' said Dumbledore with a slight wheeze, 'but these are very severe circumstances.'  
  
This was shown to be very much the case when they emerged once more into the hall.  
  
***  
  
'I wonder what it would be like to taste the blood of a deluded mortal, who thinks himself immortal? I wonder indeed, yes,' whispered Drusilla to Voldemort. Her eyes pierced his, filling his mind with utter dread that he had never felt before. He could think of nothing but the malicious power in those eyes, and was powerless to so much as raise his wand arm. He made a small noise in the back of his throat.  
  
***  
  
Spike had dealt several more cuts to Melissa. Her free arm was bleeding slightly, and he had cut her left leg more severely, leaving her limping, and struggling to parry his blows, which were coming less often now. Melissa could tell that Spike was toying with her, before he dealt the final blow. No-one ever asked to be a Slayer…no-one ever asked for an end like this, to die at the hands of a creature that was like nothing so much as a powerful and demonic cat in human guise.  
  
'Back!' shouted Dumbledore, having emerged into the hall. He seemed taller than usual, bolder, less aged, and, in short, more powerful. His eyes blazed with a certain fury, which was equalled by the fury emanating from McGonagall and Snape.  
  
'Oh piss off,' snapped Spike, holding his sword ready for a killing blow.  
  
Dumbledore remained standing tall and prominent, his wand now pointing at Spike, although no-one had noticed him move.  
  
'You can leave now, with what you have gained,' said Dumbledore slowly, 'or you can suffer my severest displeasure. There is a reason that Hogwarts has long been a safe haven from those who follow the Dark Arts.'  
  
Spike looked at Dumbledore, and saw the determination, and also sensed a deal of un-tested power. He lowered the blade.  
  
'Fine,' he said testily, 'I've got forever haven't I?' he looked at Melissa, 'another time then, without your friends. Until then, you get a reprieve. Where's your manners? You should say 'thank you' little lady. Fine, be like that. Dru! We're going!'  
  
Drusilla looked away from Voldemort, 'but I was having such a good time,' she said plaintively.  
  
'Yeah well,' said Spike angrily, 'show's over. Bag your treat, and let's go.'  
  
'I think not,' said Voldemort coolly, despite his previous terror, and twisted from Drusilla's grip like a snake. He seemed to fade and twist into the shadows, and his footsteps echoed down the halls.  
  
Drusilla looked disappointed. And then she brightened. 'We should be somewhere else my love. There's nothing more to be done here, by us. Let's go.' Spike took her hand, and she lead him from the hall, using a different corridor to the one that Voldemort had seemed to take.  
  
Dumbledore looked down at Melissa. 'Let's get you to the hospital wing. Snape, McGonagall, please go and wake up Madam Pomfrey, although I am sure she could do with some sleep, she will be needed to tend to these wounds. Can you walk alone, Melissa?'  
  
'Sure,' she said, sounding not very sure at all, and sounding very tired, 'but I don't think I can stand for too long.'  
  
'In that case,' said Dumbledore, 'let us Apparate to the hospital wing before I get to the business of restoring old wards.'  
  
And they disappeared.  
  
***  
  
Voldemort roamed amongst the shadows. He wasn't going to leave just yet. Not him, immortal Voldemort. Let everyone assume that he would Apparate away. Then he would strike at leisure and…aah…  
  
Voldemort saw Tim, one of the vampires who had been supposed to serve his interests, but had rebelled. Well, let the first revenge begin here, there would be time for Spike and Drusilla, and perhaps the vampires who had made them also…but he got ahead of himself.  
  
'Hello again, friend' said Voldemort ironically. Tim span around. It seemed he had been trying to get into the Divination Tower, looking for a place to sleep before sun-rise no doubt.  
  
Tim leapt at Voldemort, no doubt hoping to sate his thirst, and to kill his enemy. Tim didn't even complete the leap, as Voldemort sent a bolt of fire towards Tim. Tim crackled and burned up on the floor, and took a few minutes to turn completely to ash.  
  
Voldemort smiled mirthlessly. That was the best thing that had happened this night. He could feel he was back in control again.  
  
But Tim had had a good idea nonetheless. Hopefully the Death Eaters had managed to kill some of the others (he hadn't seen the children return, nor two of the teachers, so perhaps they had been slain by his Death Eaters? Before they were themselves destroyed, as they no doubt had been). This might mean that it would be some time before any state of normality returned, so a class room would be as good a place as any. And since he was here…  
  
Voldemort opened the trap door to the Divination tower, already hatching his plans to destroy Dumbledore, the vampires, and the wretched Harry Potter boy, who had interrupted his dark reign in the first place…  
  
His thoughts were rudely interrupted when several hundred gallons of hot (and drugged, although this made little difference to Voldemort) tea cascaded over Voldemort, washing him away, and throwing him into many solid objects, and scraping him along the stone walls in a torrent flood that went on for some time.  
  
By the time that Madame Trewlawney remembered her enchantment upon her favourite tea cup, once she heard the gushing noise from far away in the library, Voldemort was very definitely dead. This caused a largely unanimous response in the magic community when it was announced the following week, although there were some researchers who had minor nervous fits trying to work out how tea could undo immortality.  
  
After the ordeal, it was largely a case of everyone having to deal with the situation. 


	8. Epilogue

Can I Come In?  
  
1 Epilogue  
  
The following morning, the puzzling events of the last few days came into a clearer light. The disappearance of Albus Filch, now known to have died, whether at the hands of vampires or Death Eaters. Professor Mundanus had apparently been working with the Death Eaters, and had taken steps to try and keep Dumbledore from taking an active role in the night. The driver of the Hogwarts train and Harry's aunt Petunia had been killed and made into vampires. These was not the only mysteries to be cleared up, however, and so an assembly of the school was held after breakfast. Whispers had passed at feverish length, although there was a subdued feel in the air as people looked nervously at the Slytherin table, now completely empty. It had been draped with black as a mark of respect. Marie Neardrop was now seated at the Gryffindor table, and was making friends quickly despite her timid nature. She hadn't been reassigned officially to a house, although she seemed firmly settled. She had taken the news of the deaths of all her friends and colleagues as well as might be expected, and she had received a lot of sympathy.  
  
Dumbledore tapped a spoon against his goblet of water. The sound carried clearly.  
  
'I would like to have some silence please, I have a few things to say.'  
  
It won't have escaped anyone's notice that Slytherin house is no longer with us. All but one of the house died in unfortunate circumstances, as a result of Lord Voldemort's plans. The surviving pupil will be moved to another house. I would like to ask students to treat her with the utmost kindness. I will be very displeased if I hear about any bullying.'  
  
Professor Snape naturally will not be needed to act as the head of Slytherin. However, I am sure he is not without consolation.'  
  
Indeed, Snape did seem to be smiling slightly, although there was no doubt that there was pain in his eyes. He had lost a lot of students, including some of his favourites.  
  
Dumbledore continued, 'Indeed, we are all with consolation. In rather strange circumstances, related in no small way to our large cleaning bill, Lord Voldemort appears to have perished. Of course, we have seen him return before, so perhaps we should not celebrate this early.  
  
This also leads onto an enquiry on my part. The tea Lord Voldemort was slain by' (muffled laughter broke out among several tables) 'smelled rather peculiar. Imagine my surprise when Madame Trewlawney told me how it made her giggly and sleepy? Naturally my surprise deepened when Professor Sprout told me that the tea must have been drugged, and when I thought I could not be surprised further, behold! It appears that an enterprising student had placed marijuana in her tea. This led to her falling asleep and knocking over her enchanted tea cup. While I should perhaps punish the individual, I have been reminded that wizard law does not ban marijuana, and further that the circumstances might be considered unusual. It occurs to me that perhaps we have not drafted a definition of 'usual' circumstances at Hogwarts, but I suspect the issue will not arise anytime soon. So, would the rascal responsible please stand up so that we can applaud him or her?'  
  
James Vurtis stood uneasily at the Hufflepuff table. Clapping began uneasily, and then developed.  
  
'Yes, well done,' said Dumbledore, 'never let it be said that random stupidity does not have its place at this school.'  
  
Continuing on, Professor Aconite will be leaving us at the end of this term. She sustained some injuries during the fighting that occurred last night. She wishes to take a holiday before she resumes her normal duties as an Augor. I hope you will take time to tell her how much you appreciated her lessons. I am told that they have been quite, umm, interesting. In her place, Professor Snape will be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.'  
  
Many people groaned, especially at the Gryffindor table.  
  
'Now, now, I would like you to give him a chance. I have been assured that he will be the model of patience in the classroom.'  
  
Melissa, who was wearing an arm cast, smirked. She was sitting next to McGonagall at the teacher's table, and both were mouthing warnings at Snape.  
  
'I would like the following students to come see me in my office after lunch today: Harry Potter, Marie Neardrop, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley.  
  
Points will be given out next week. You may go about your day's business now, good day.'  
  
Dumbledore sat back down, and the children filed out of the dining hall.  
  
***  
  
When Harry and the others turned up to Dumbledore's office, the door was open. Dumbledore and Melissa were sitting down and drinking tea, while the gargoyle from the night before was leaning against the wall, still without legs.  
  
'Harry, Marie, Ron, Hermione…please, take a seat. Now, I have news that may concern you all.'  
  
Marie, it has been decided that you should be placed in Gryffindor, since you seem to have made friends there easily. Unfortunately, I do not think you will be returning home. Your father and your mother have gone into hiding. It would seem that they were Death Eaters, or supporters of them. I cannot guess when they might appear again, or under what circumstances. Do you have any relatives that might take you in? Muggles may be the safest option.'  
  
Marie nodded timidly, pale as milk.  
  
'It will get easier Marie. You have been very brave, but I won't keep you here any longer than you wish.'  
  
Marie got up and left quickly.  
  
'Poor girl. Harry, and of course Ron and Hermione. You may be interested to know more about what has happened. After all, you have been involved in Voldemort's plots often recently.'  
  
The Ministry of Magic has been forced to recognise that Voldemort did indeed return. There has been some embarrassment about this. Cornelius Fudge has resigned, and there is some debate about who will succeed him. Lucius Malfoy may be interested in the position according to rumour.'  
  
'He can't get it!' said Harry, 'that'd be as bad as having Voldemort in!'  
  
'Quite true,' said Melissa, taking control of the conversation. 'That's where I come in. I should be up and about properly next week. I heal very fast. Those students, however, are going to tell their parents that I'm out of it indefinitely. That will give me time to deal with Lucius and as many others of the Death Eaters as you can tell me of. I'll need names.'  
  
'You're going to try and send them to Azkaban?' asked Ron, 'it won't work! Malfoy's got too many people in his pocket!'  
  
'I'm not going to send them to Azkaban,' said Melissa quietly, 'I am going to kill them. That's what my job is really. The Augor thing just means I get paid for what I have to do anyway. I'm a Slayer. One of the Chosen Ones – we've lost track of how many of us there are supposed to be these days.'  
  
There was a quiet silence. Dumbledore picked up from there.  
  
'I have more news. Since your muggle family has died, Harry, and you aren't at threat from Lord Voldemort now, you may be free to live with Sirius Black now. I'm sure the new Minister for Magic will grant him a pardon. I believe Professor Sprout found the body of Wormtail this morning. And poor Filch. Your cousin, Duddeley is an orphan, now like yourself. I am aware of your feelings regarding him, but I still think you should speak with him when the school year is over. I think you may find a great many changes will have come over him under this trauma.'  
  
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. He appeared to brighten visibly then, and looked younger than he had of late. 'Still, despite the suffering that has been experienced by so many, Voldemort is gone. I suspect he will not return again, although there will always be dark wizards and witches I am afraid. Once people have mourned for a sufficiently long time, I think people will be rather more cheerful. The worst may be past yet.'  
  
Harry and his friends stood up to leave the room. Melissa waved goodbye to them, as did Dumbledore, who had one last thing to say: 'Oh, if you are wandering past the library, would you be so good as to ask Madam Pince if she has found a spell to give our friend here some legs? He has been most down-hearted since we removed him from my door.'  
  
Harry grinned, and said he would check. They left Dumbledore's office, feeling rather better, with a burden removed.  
  
'To be young again,' sighed Melissa.  
  
'Hmph,' said Dumbledore, 'there is much to be said for age's wisdom. I wonder if Madam Pince will be able to find that spell? I must say, I had thought that we at least used the Dewey system for the library. It does say something, I am afraid, when an entire castle of wizards and witches fail to notice a distinct lack of organisation. Hmmm… Still…that leaves just one thing. Do you think we have much to fear from Spike and Drusilla?'  
  
'Not really,' said Melissa, 'it was a bit of a fluke they got involved in this to start with. And you can do a spell that'll stop them getting back in, it revokes the invitation. You can put up some crosses too, so they won't get near. But even if you didn't, I don't think they'd come back. They got what they wanted here. Spike still wants to kill me, but Drusilla will probably drag him somewhere else. She wears the trousers, I think, and she sounded bored with this place. So I guess they're looking for something new, and Spike is making empty threats. Possibly. Still, nothing I can't handle.'  
  
'Well,' said Dumbledore, 'at least this business is over with. I do wonder what will become of us all, mind you. I suppose we'll manage as best we can. That tends to be the only option one has.'  
  
***  
  
Spike and Drusilla stood on the roof of a large tower block in London, over- looking the streets. Drusilla looked around with a startling clarity.  
  
'I feel so different,' she said, 'it all seems so clear to me. A haze has gone from my eyes, and I can see so clearly. Everything is new, I can tell what everything is, and it's so sharp. I feel alive, for something dead!'  
  
'The world is your oyster,' smiled Spike.  
  
'I don't think I'd enjoy oysters very much. Let's go find something fun to do. There must be another adventure out there if we look. This time I make the plans.'  
  
'Anything you want, Dru,' said Spike, 'anything.'  
  
And they leaped off the roof of the tall building, and into the dark streets below, looking for the next source of excitement.  
  
After all, you only live once. 


End file.
